


King of the game

by Sierra Roo (SoySierra)



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drama, M/M, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-04-29 18:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14478258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoySierra/pseuds/Sierra%20Roo
Summary: During the events that take place in Book of Atlantic, the threatening figure of Undertaker looms over Ciel and Sebastian. What would have happened if at that time the ship had not collapsed? If the former Shinigami had not had clemency for the devil, things would have turned out differently. Very different.





	1. Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji belogs to Yana Toboso. I don´t make money with this fic.
> 
> Author´s note: This fic is also avaliable (and finished) in spanish as "El rey del juego"
> 
> Thanks to Gemini in tauro for the translation of the first chapter.
> 
> Thanks to Lissette18 for making the next chapters translation´s possible! Enjoy!

He's falling. 

 

He had been thrown from one of the balconies and he was falling. Sebastian follows right behind him, in a poor attempt of saving him from the mortal impact. So useless. Undertaker's big death scythe gets through him from side to side and it isn't his hands that touch him, but his blood. A demon's blood.

 

Ciel can feel the nausea rising up in his throat, the powerful attraction of gravity over his body and the inevitable fear over death's proximity.

 

This time, there is nothing that can get in between him and the abysm and he is falling.

 

When?

 

When did he truly start to fall?

 

Was it in that ship, thrown by the force of Undertaker's grip?

 

Or perhaps was it before even…?

 

His hand was gripping another darker, almost intangible one. Demoniac. His mouth uttering cursed words and his body sealed by the contract. His life was forever bound by the constant presence of a black butler…

 

Was it there when his fall begun?

 

No.

 

He cannot deny it any longer. The floor is getting closer and he cannot lie when the end is that close to him.

His fall begun even before that. Much prior to meeting the demon. Prior to his family's murder, prior to the kidnapping, before…

 

*

 

He was so happy. Mom and dad had the servants work on the Christmas decoration. The smell of food filled him. The gifts were worth the best toys' fabricant in all England. Everybody was laughing and enjoying the holidays. He was loved, he was especial, he could have whatever he wished for, anything, but...

 

"He'll be someday head of the Phantomhive household." His mother had said that particular day, with the warmest of smiles.

 

They were identical, in body, in thoughts, everything in them was identical, and he loved his brother as though he was part of himself. However that day…

A gap made its way between them. Just one of them would be heir. Heir of a title he did not care, that never would he give it a day… and now it was a barrier in between them, in a bottomless abysm that sooner or later would end up separating them.

 

He didn't want that. He didn't want to be separated from his brother. He loved him. He loved him so much. And they knew that…

 

That horrible man that had kidnapped them, even though he knew of the love they had for each other. He had seen them in a party his father had thrown. He had followed their very movement, their interactions and then…

 

Then he acted on them.

 

The dungeon was so small it provoked him claustrophobia. So many children inside it. He had always been afraid of darkness, but back then, his brother had been by his side. His brother, who whispered calming words to his ear, who looked forward to keep him calm, even after the screams, the odor blood brought and his very own fear…

 

"Bring the Earl of Phantomhive!" Someone had ordered and for a second he thought that it was his father who they called for.

 

_ Your father is dead, you saw him _ .  A voice inside him said. That's when everything became more real. His father, his mother, both murdered, condoned to bits. What had been made of their bodies? He had nothing left, nothing but…

 

His brother was about to step further, but he stopped him short with his hand. No, he could not afford lose him too. If they were to kill someone, it ought to be him. He, who wasn't the heir, who wouldn't continue with the traditions earls had, he who could be disposed of…

 

"I am the Earl of Phantomhive!" He screamed, stepping ahead, faking a courage he didn't had.

He could not explain that to his brother, however, who could just gape at him speechless. He couldn't tell him how much he loved him, the sense of sacrifice, the reason behind his lie.

 

He just couldn't.

 

The bullet resonated with such force, leaving him without opportunity to do anything at all. His brother's body fell to his feet and he couldn't even stop his falling. The hands of these men took him away, then took away his clothes, and then they put him in a weird table…

 

*

 

His brother was dead. He had been murdered thanks to his lie. It was his fault that his body fell to the floor.

 

Years later, like a payback from destiny, he is the one who is falling and there is nobody to help him.

 

Ciel closes his eyes.

 

He deserves it.

 

To be continue..

 


	2. Who is he?

The impact hurts. The collision of his body against the ground causes his muscles to contract and his teeth emit a loud snap. It hurts, of course it hurts.  
  
But it could have been worse.  
  
He is not dead.  
  
Why is not he dead? A fall from that height should be ..  
  
When he see his surroundings, finds his answer.  
  
SEBASTIAN!  
  
Sebastian has protected him. Despite his brutal wound, despite having been pierced by that powerful weapon, he has managed to cushion his fall wrapping him with his body.  
  
He seems to be unconscious. An alarming amount of blood flows from his chest. Ciel can not help being upset for a moment. He had never had the opportunity to see him that way...Injured, Vulnerable. For a moment he feels sorry for him.  
  
His black butler, his demon..

They have shared so much together, triumphs, sorrows, horrors..  
  
He has saved him once more. At the expense of himself, at the cost of his integrity, he has prioritized him again.  
  
 _Is his soul worth so much?  
_  
Ciel realizes that he will never be able to understand the longing for demonic hunger.  
  
It is not time to think too much. The Shinigami is coming.  
  
 _Who is he?  
_  
That man, who is going down the luxurious stairs, pulling his hair back from his face, is not him. He does not understand.  
  
He is not the Undertaker he knows. The noble, his father's friend, the creator of shapebones biscuits  that he always so graciously offered him. Strange, peculiar, even sinister. But an ally and in his moments of greater vulnerability ...  
  
A friend.  
  
He used to trusted him.  
  
The pain that still runs through his body claims his mistake. Being attracted to his chest, then being thrown into the void as if he were nothing, as if he meant nothing ...  
  
He could not understand it.  
  
"I knew you would be able to protect the Count." The Shinigami points out with a voice that has stopped being so sharp to give way to a deeper, more serious tone, like a purr coming from another place.  
  
 _Is not him._ Ciel repeats to himself, as if by dint of repeating it, the words become real.  
  
“However, it seems you always end up making he miserable, so maybe..”  
  
The brutal scythe is raised and Ciel can feel as if the air around him were cut with its edge.  
  
“You should just disappear ..”  
  
The scythe rotates on itself in a semicircle. In the hands of the Shinigami the Death Scythe is not a weapon, it is a part of himself. It becomes one with him and Ciel could even swear it loses weight ... until it falls.  
  
When the edge of the blade approaches his body, Sebastian resists. Fight. He takes it in his hands in a desperate attempt to stop it. But he is wounded, weakened by his recent struggle and by the attrition of the battle against the undead. His efforts are in vain ..  
  
The blade advances as if the demon's resistance did not mean anything and makes a clean cut. The head comes off and rolls on the floor of the room with a muffled sound.  
  
Ciel sees it, but he does not see it. His eyes see the scene, they record it. But his mind is in shock.   
  
 _What happened?_  
  
No, not that...  
  
Pain.  
  
Pain crosses his face, shaking his senses. It is blast, sharp, cutting and for a disquieting second, he believes that the Shinigami has also attacked him. But no..  
  
Undertaker remains in the same place, the scythe has not been raised again and he only observes him.

  
Ciel wants to ask him, wants answers, wants to scream ...  
  
WHAT'S GOING ON?!  
  
But he can not. Something warm runs through his face, blood. The pain does nothing but increase until he can no longer handle it ...  
  
Ciel falls for the second time that night.

 

 

To be continue..

 


	3. Bone-shaped cookies

Where is he?  
  
Looking around, he sees he´s on a hard wood which strangely does not seem very stable. Around, he can hear the distant echo of shouting and some splashing. Water.  
  
He's in a boat. In the distance, he can see what remains of Campania ends up sinking, dragging the souls that still live with it.  
  
How did he escape? Evidently Sebastian has managed to reach a lifeboat and they ..  
  
No.  
  
It is not Sebastian who accompanies him. The long silver hair, the dark tunic ..  
  
Undertaker!  
  
He can not help calling him. Undertaker places his attention on him for a second, and then smiles at him in an inscrutable way. His green double-iris eyes gleam in the dark ...  
  
Images of the recent events flood his mind. The society of the Aurora, the living dead, the fight against the Shinigami, the huge scythe and Sebastian ..  
  
He can clearly remember the path of his decapitated head and he can't avoid looking away to the side.  
  
No. It's not Undertaker.  
  
The Undertaker he knew, had opened the doors of his house the early morning of that tragic night and had let him pass. During all that time, he had been a refuge for him, a balm between so much tragedy, a guide...  
  
The last thing he had left.

 

* * *

  
  
That night, he had not been able to stay in the replica of his mansion created by the devil. He did not tolerate it. The black butler followed his footsteps and he could not stand it. That being was a shadow, a constant reminder of his mistake, of what he had done and what he had lost.  
  
It was impossible for him to breathe the same air, to walk the same corridors...  
  
For that reason, that night he had departed. He had left him in charge of that facade of mansion created from fire and ashes, and had gone to the only place he could still consider in a certain way of his.The store that he used to visit with his father. Property of a dark and mysterious man, who knew how to deal with death.  
  
For some reason, he had not been able to think of another place to go. Maybe it was because, in some strange way, he reminded him of his father.  
  
He had opened his door that night, but also his arms. Undertaker had let him cry over him, in a crying that had felt overwhelming. His words were unintelligible and they drowned in his own sobs, but he needed to get it out. Telling everything, what he had seen and heard, but more essentially, what he had lost.  
  
"Mother", "Father", "Brother", his speech was reduced to a litany of names and at times, it seemed that the anguish was going to become one with his asthma to devour him. But it was then, when that threatened to happen, that he felt the pressure in his arms, the brush of one of his hands against his back and that brought him back to reality.  
  
The night of the tragedy, Undertaker said nothing. He only supported him, contained him in his silence and offered himself as a refuge to free his pain. He had also been friends with his father. Ciel could not know if his silence was because there was nothing to say or if, on the contrary, he also was silently dealing with his pain.  
  
After that day, visits to the store had continued. Undertaker had a strange sense to perceive when he needed to talk to him alone and showed off his quirky personality to achieve it. There were times when Sebastian's jokes were not good enough for his appetite and required only those of the Count. On other occasions, he requested diligences to the devil of products that happened to be on the other side of the city ...  
  
Ciel was not sure how he managed to know when he needed to get rid of Sebastian's presence. But in one way or another he always fulfilled his goal.  
  
On those occasions, he left for a moment the role of being the proud Count, to be the child again. The gravedigger knew his terror, he had seen his sorrows. In front of him there was no need to pretend. When they were alone, he could be fallible, vulnerable.

There was a kind of implicit deal between the two. Nobody asked more than revealed. Ciel did not talk about Sebastian's true nature, he did not mention the contract and Undertaker took everything he said for granted without questioning anything. He had never revealed anything about himself, his past or his real name ... but Ciel had not wanted to know either.  
  
Both kept their secrets and it was fair.  
  
Often, Ciel talked of the dead. Not of his family. He had not mentioned them again, for fear of disturbing their rest. He talked about the deads he was leaving behind. Those who had murdered to obtain information, the orphans of the circus, Doll ..  
  
As much as he seemed a raw coldness before the devil and the world in general, each action linked to his revenge, brought a consequence and a lot of contradictory feelings with which he had to continually fight. He was not a monster. He was human. Just a thirteen-year-old human who had to deal with guilt and who forced himself to sleep at night, despite the nightmares.  
  
Other times, he could not even talk. Usually, it coincided when the anguish was too great. Undertaker never asked for explanations and he was grateful. On those occasions, he just watched him fight to clean the dust from the store and knead his cookies. Fortunately, he chose not to prepare a body in front of his person.  
  
Somehow, the triviality of those actions calmed him down. Seeing the hands of sharp black nails to put ingredients for his preparation or to hear him prattle about the history of some wealthy family, always ended up relaxing him.  
  
 _The world can go to hell._ He used to think bitterly. _But at least, there will always be bone-shaped cookies somewhere._  
  


* * *

  
  
Undertaker  
  
The last thing he had left.  
  
His refuge ..  
  
He was an enemy. A being that had snatched Sebastian, his only weapon.  
  
If he had had something to do with the murder of his family, he would have no choice but to ...  
  
Ciel feels that the vertigo goes up his throat and has to cling to the edge of the boat to empty the contents of his stomach in the frozen sea.  
  
He feels sick.

 

 

To be continue..

 


	4. Traitors

_If he died at that moment, could he make a difference?_

 

Sebastian will not come to his rescue. He knows it. Ciel doesn´t know if demons can be killed in that way, but the blood that has flowed from his patched eye, urges him to think that their society has been abruptly finished.

 

Ciel shifts his gaze from the ocean to focus on the being that accompanies him. The Shinigami looks straight ahead, scanning the horizon as if looking for something. His hands, from time to time, move the oars to propel them.

 

This is not how it should end. His destiny was to complete his revenge and after that, board a boat with his demon to the place where he wanted to devour his soul.

 

A fair arrangement. He was prepared for that. To continue living was not in the plan.

 

He feels so disappointed. Anger builds up inside him but he knows he can not direct it against Undertaker. Useless. If the strength of the Shinigamis combined with Sebastian's had not hurt him, What could he do to him?

 

That left him with only one option.

 

Die. End his life. He still had his weapon. He had not used all the bullets, one of them was stuck in the drum. If he played his cards well, hopefully, he would avoid being kidnapped, be an instrument again in the hands of another.

 

He is about to put a hand in his pocket when the voice stops him. It has become acute again, full of ups and downs and strange inflections.

 

“Hey! Over here!” The Shinigami waves the oars signaling to a small boat that is nearby.

 

Ciel observes how someone illuminates them and notices that the boat changes course by addressing them. That confuses him. It does not seem to be a rescue boat. The Shinigami seems to have been waiting for them. _Who are they? Who else is behind this?_ The questions swirl in his mind and the intrigue beats his death wishes.

 

_I'll see what you have to say. What is hidden behind your actions and then, if things get complicated, this will be my exit ticket._ Ciel thinks, while rubbing the hidden weapon with one of his fingers.

 

The Shinigami tries to help him up the wooden stairs, but he rejects him with violence.

 

“DO NOT TOUCH ME!” He spits the words with anger and can see how the other's smile loses some of its intensity. True, he had never rejected him before, at least not when they were alone. But that was another Undertaker, one who was his friend ...

 

Blinded by fury, he climbs the stairs and soon is on the deck. Suddenly, he is surprised by the intensity of a hug.

 

“Young master! Thanks heaven! "

 

Ciel doesn´t know who is hugging him, until he distinguishes the blonde hair brushing his cheek.

 

_Finni?_

 

“We were so worried about you! When he told us about the boat, we did not hesitate to come, we were afraid we were too late...”

 

Finni keeps talking but Ciel loses the thread to the conversation. _He? Who is he referring to?_ Around him Bald and Mei-rin seem equally excited about his arrival. He doesn´t understand. _How did they get there?_ _Who has informed them?_ Dazed, he looks around. There are other people on the deck but he doesn´t know them. _Survivors?_ He distinguishes Tanaka near one of the columns. The old man looks back with a smile mixing relief and sadness.

 

“Tanaka!” He has to know what happens. He must warn him about Undertaker.

 

“Ahhh! The cold doesn´t do any good to this old bones ..”

 

Too late. The Shinigami has reached the deck, struggling with his tunics.

 

Ciel sees how Mey-Rin approaches him, offering him a blanket.

 

“NO! STAY AWAY FROM HIM!”

 

The servants watch him stunned. They don´t understand.

 

“HE IS DANGEROUS! HE IS..!”

 

"He is Count Phantomhive, the watchdog of Queen Victoria and current head of the Phantomhive family." The old butler interrupts him, bowing his head slightly to the aforementioned.

 

Ciel remains stupefied in the place. Has he heard wrong? But nobody seems to question it.

 

_No, it can not be. It just can not be happening_. _What is this? A cruel joke? Are they all accomplices in this madness?_

 

They..

 

Who are they, exactly? Suddenly, Ciel realizes that he doesn´t really know anything about them.

 

He knows Tanaka since he served his father. But what does he know about his life? Who was he before serving the family?

 

His servants..Mey-Rin, Baldroy, Finnian. They arrived one day brought by his black butler but, what is in their past?

 

Everything was a facade?

 

Where they always …?

 

Were they always in the service of Undertaker?

 

Despair takes the worst of himself. In a quick movement, Ciel takes the gun out of his pocket without really knowing who to aim for. To his servants? To Tanaka? To the Shinigami who looks at him sadly?

 

_Conspirators_

 

_Traitors_

 

He should kill them all ... but he only has one bullet. The answer is clear.

 

“YOUNG MASTER, NO!”

 

Ciel points the weapon at his head.

 

This is the end …

 

 

To be continue..

 


	5. Astre

“ASTRE!”

 

He freezes. That voice. That name. It can not be possible. He has heard wrong ..

 

“Please, please ...!”

 

He has, finally, gone completely mad and the voices of the dead call him in his final hour ..

 

"Brother!" This time, he looks for where the voice comes from, and it is then, that he sees him.. Impossible. What trick is this?

 

His brother. His dead brother, makes his way through the crowd with an expression of extreme concern on his face.

 

“Ciel?”

 

* * *

 

 

He does not understand how it happens, but suddenly he is sitting on a decorated table next to his dead brother and Undertaker, while Tanaka serves tea. As if it were the most natural situation in the world, his brother talks animatedly with the elderly servant, while Undertaker serves cube after cube of sugar.

 

Everything is so absurd, that for a second he fears having died on that ship and finding himself in some strange parody of heaven.

 

_No._

 

It's true, he would not go to heaven. His soul was condemned by the demon. A demon that had recently been decapitated in a ship plagued with undead...

 

Unable to contain it, a hysterical laugh flows from his throat. His abrupt reaction draws the attention of his companions who look at him with astonishment. _What is so funny?_

 

“Astre, are you ok?”

 

Astre. That name that has been long buried, is again pronounced from the lips of his brother. Astre, the name his parents gave him. It feels alien, distant, as if it belonged to another. He has been Ciel for so long that he can no longer respond naturally to that name.

 

_Astre is dead. Even if there is no body under that tombstone, the child who once answered to that name died the day I lost you. The day they killed you because of me._

 

Taking his brother's name had been his mistake. That lie had been his condemnation. He had to take it to the ultimate consequences. He would die being Ciel, bearing a name that was not his. To remember, to never forget that he deserved to be condemned.

 

For that reason, he did not fear the demon or the fate of his soul. Sebastian was revenge but it was also justice. Not only for his family but for himself.

 

_Promise me that you will not leave my side until my revenge is completed. Everyone involved in this, must die._

 

Those had been his words when he left that horrible place. With a sardonic smile, the demon had knelt on the ground to swear an oath. He knew the irony of all that.

 

_You will kill everyone and then.. you will kill me._

 

He couldn´t imagine a fairer deal.

 

“Astre ..?”

 

Oh, it's true. He has not answered yet. Where are his manners?

 

“Frankly, no. I'm not ok. I just escaped from a ship plagued with living dead that ...” He stops a moment. It's not Undertaker, remember. “That this subject, has invoked on us. After that, I witnessed the beheading of my most faithful servant and now I am here, kidnapped by my own servants and the brother I thought was dead.”

 

Astre emits a deep sigh to recover.

 

“To answer your question, brother. No, actually, I am not ok at all.” He finishes while taking his cup of tea carelessly. Earl gray. At least the tea is good.

 

He feels so dazed, too many facts without meaning. Maybe, he has finally lost his mind ...

 

"You're not kidnapped." His brother's voice is heard over the frenzy of his thoughts.

 

"We're not your enemies. I am your brother and he ...” Says pointing to the Shinigami who has hidden his eyes behind a curtain of silver hair. “He has always sought to protect us ..”

 

_He._

 

Sure, Undertaker. He could not believe what he was hearing.

 

“PROTECT US!. Are you serious?!” He gets up so violently that the chair hits the ground. He can perceive that the figure of Tanaka retires after a brief reverence. His anger is out of control.

 

“YOU!” He shouts, pointing to the Shinigami who watches him with an inscrutable expression.

 

“YOU MADE ME ALMOST KILLED IN THAT SHIP! YOU CREATED THOSE THINGS. WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING ABOUT ?!

 

“You don´t understand ...!” His brother wants to interrupt, but he stops him with a blow on the table.

 

“Protect us ... yeah of course, it makes sense.” The sarcasm beats under his voice.

 

“If you wanted so much to protect us then, where were you? That night, when everything happened ... Where were you supposed to be?”

 

Something in the Shinigamis´s expression changes. It is difficult to know behind that curtain of hair that covers his face, but he is skillful. Too much time being Count Phantomhive has prepared him to detect the most subtle emotions. A dark satisfaction nests in him. He knows when his attack is going to hurt.

 

In an instant, he remember his moments together. When he let him stay by his side, when he heard him talk about his deads, when he let him cry over himself. All that time, he knew that his brother was alive and didn´t say anything. He could have eased his sorrows, but no. He chose not to do it ..

 

“You're nothing but a fake. A vulgar liar.” Astre perceives the irony of the accusation, but he does not care.

 

“You pretended to be my friend to then, throw me by the railing of that ship. I trusted you, you were the last thing I had, but it has turned out ... that you are no better than the owner of that circus.” He culminates as a final sentence, to then resolutely abandon the room.

 

None of his companions speaks to him or makes any attempt to stop his departure. He doesn´t know where he is going, he doesn´t care. He needs to get away, put distance between him and all that madness.

 

His steps take him to the deck. He stops to hold onto the railing of the ship. He feels dizzy but not as bad as before. The fresh air helps to relax his disturbed mind. The sun begins rise on the horizon.

 

What was the meaning of all that? His mind was a chaos. The world he had created, everything he had hoped for, had suddenly been modified. He was not in control anymore. The rules of the game had changed and he had become a pawn in the service of someone else.

 

A growing sense of impotence overwhelmed him. How could he have been so blind?

 

“You are not hurt.”

 

His brother's words come muffled due to the noise of the water.

 

He still can not believe that he is next to him, that he can see him and talk to him. He feels happy to be able to meet him again. However, he can not relax. Everything is too suspicious.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

His twin is placed next to him. He looks to the horizon. His bluish hair, flutters slightly in the morning breeze. He is just as he remembers him.

 

“You said that you had been thrown into the void and that some creatures had attacked you.. But I don´t see injuries in your body.”

 

By reflex, Astre observes himself. It is true. He has not suffered damages thanks to the sacrifice of Sebastian. With a twinge in his chest, he wonders if his body will rest in the frozen sea with the other victims or if simply, given his supernatural nature, will have disappeared in some form of energy.

 

“Sebastian” He says his name in a whisper. He feels vulnerable without his presence.

 

 

 

“He knew it. He knew the butler would protect you. That's why he did, what he did ...” His brother stops abruptly when he notices his dismal look.

 

So, the Shinigami always knew about Sebastian's nature. Astre feels that the anger returns to stir in his interior, but this time it is contained. He doesn´t want to lose control again. At least not with his brother. So, he decides to focus his attention on other matters.

 

"Those things, the corpses ... Why did he have to create them?" He could still hear in his mind his frightful howls and remember the way his hands fluttered in the air, searching, always searching ..

 

His brother does not answer him immediately. Meditate a moment and when he finally responds, his words are loaded with a hint of pain and guilt.

 

“He had to do many things...”

 

The cryptic response only fuels his intrigue.

 

“Why did he have to do them? What would justify such an aberrant act?”

 

Something in his twin's gaze changes and then, Astre realizes the truth. Despite the time they have been separated, they still maintain that connection between the two. A unique connection that has allowed them to understand each other without speaking. On this occasion the words are not necessary. He has understood.

 

 

_He has done those things for you._

 

 

To be continue...

 

 

 

 


	6. Unfair

Breakfast is served in the elegant lounge where tea had been taken moments before. Although the room does not have comparison with the luxurious stays of Campania, it is evident that all its components are of category. The oak table, the bright chandeliers, the silverware of the cutlery ..

 

Astre has no appetite, but he forces himself to eat anyway. He must conserve energy.

 

Internally, he wonders if that ship belongs to the Shinigami. While choosing a small portion of raspberry pie, concludes that it is most likely. He has seen other people on the boat besides them and his servants, but nobody seems to pay too much attention to him. Employees.

 

_Everyone is at his service._

 

Soon, Mey-Rin approaches with a tottering tray of tea and manages to serve him without spilling a drop. He thanks her but the girl does not leave.

 

“Excuse me young master, Sebastian ..”

 

The name causes something to stir inside him. He does not want to think about him. Not now..

 

“It is dead.” He responds dryly to the question that has not been formulated.

 

As expected, the tray falls crashing to the ground. The young woman apologizes while trying to lift the elements that have fallen, but her hands tremble so much that her attempts are useless. He has no patience for this. Noticing that his tolerance is about to vanish, Tanaka enters the scene to help clean up the mess and take the tearful maid out of the place.

 

“Don't blame them.” His twin indicates from the other side of the table, while choosing a bone-shaped cookie.

 

That reminds him ..

 

“So now, all my servitude works for him..” His voice is calm, without the hints of anger or frustration he feels. He is proud of himself.

 

The look of his brother rests on him. It seems as if he evaluates him. Astre hates that look. The smile that is drawn on Ciel´s face causes him rejection.

 

“Your servants appreciate you very much. He only informed them that the ship was in danger and they did not hesitate to come to your rescue.”

 

“He also told them that the ship was in danger because of him?”

 

His brother's smile fades and he looks away.

 

_Error, brother. Count Phantomhive never looks away._

 

“Of course not, it's too good hiding things ..” He responds to himself, sipping a little tea, internally savoring the small victory.

 

His brother remains silent for a few seconds. From time to time he drinks his tea, but his mind seems to be somewhere else.

 

“You're being unfair to him ...”

 

Astre still can not understand why his brother insists on defending him. He has not seen Undertaker. His attacks, his scythe, what he hides behind that facade of silly smiles ..

 

“Am I being unfair to him?! You even want to tell me.. WHO IS HE ?!”

 

Silence again. His brother takes a few moments to respond and he feels his patience getting shorter with each passing second. _Is it that no one is going to explain me what the hell is happening?_

 

“I don´t know.” Ciel says in a whisper.

 

Impossible. Then, the words of Tanaka upon boarding the ship resonates in his mind.

 

 _He is Count Phantomhive_ ...

 

He had felt a sharp dizziness when he heard them. As if it all were a parallel universe.

 

“Tanaka knew it, he always knew...” Astre thinks aloud.

 

He did not think he could feel more betrayed than he already was, but the reality that the old butler was aware of all that, shook him with remarkable intensity.

 

“I know what Tanaka said, but he never talks about himself, he always replies evasively ... maybe he is the Count Phantomhive, maybe he is an ancestor of our family, or maybe he was just a friend of our father, I don´t really know! And that ... that's not important...”

 

“The important thing..." He says and his smile for a second is so similar to his mother's that he feels a deep impression. "Is that you're finally here.”

 

His brother seems sincere, but he is not going to resign himself. If they want to hide things, well then so be it.

 

_I can also play that game._

 

“Why am I here?”

 

The question is suspended between the two. It's just a question, but at the same time, they are so many..

 

_Why did you have to do all this?_

 

_Why kill Sebastian?_

 

_Why hide the truth during all this time?_

 

“Because I asked him for it.”

 

To be continue...

 


	7. Ciel

Astre walks through the corridors of the ship almost without seeing around him. His legs, his arms, his whole body moves by itself, as if driven by some automatic mechanism. His mind is in another place.

 

_Why am I here?_

 

His brother's answer still resonates in his ears and he can´t focus on anything else. With obsessive detail, he reviews, over and over again, the events he has heard.

 

He is not sure what to think anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Pain.

 

The pain awakens him. It's so sharp, so intense, it does not let him think, understand what happens. Around him, he hears shouts, footsteps, people running. Everything is dark, wet, cold. He registers the sensations but can not move. He has already tried to sit up but it hurts ...

 

It hurts so much..

 

Eventually, the room is illuminated with a fleeting glow and for a second everything is beautiful. He can clearly see the cell around him, there are no children in it. The brightness drives away the cold and darkness.

 

Ciel loses consciousness.

 

Mom, dad and Astre are waiting for him in bed. It's their birthday, and for that night they are allowed to sleep with them.

 

_Has he died?_

 

_Is he in heaven?_

 

Perhaps perhaps..

 

No.

 

He can still feel the pain stinging his abdomen. He doesn´t know how much time passes, but the heat becomes more and more intense. He would like to take off his jacket, but every movement is a calvary. The heat becomes unbearable, until ...

 

Fire!

 

He must get out of there, he must ask for help, must find Astre! ... but he can´t. Despair invades him. He's going to be burn alive!

 

His vision is interrupted by a silver curtain.

 

He can´t see anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

His consciousness comes and goes. Sometimes it's his parents who are with him, sometimes it's Astre. He calls them but they never answer him. They disappear as soon as he tries to reach them.

 

It hurts. He can not identify what is causing him so much damage, but it is unbearable. He shouts. He would like to ask for help...

 

To who? His dead parents? His missing brother ..?

 

The silver curtain goes in and out of his range of vision. He can´t understand what it is...At least it doesn´t leave him.

 

The surface is soft. Something covers him. Blankets? Everything is dark. Maybe, he has returned home.

 

The silver curtain tickles him. It's a strange feeling, lately he can feel only pain. He tries to move it away with one arm, but his arm is tied to something and it hurts. Why it hurts?

 

"No, no ..." He tells him.

 

_Dad?_

 

A small laugh..

 

Laugh?

 

It is not dad.

 

* * *

 

 

Where is he?

 

The place is small and dark. A faint light filters through the dirty window, but it is all the lighting that seems to be there. He is on a bed and around him, he can see shelves full of jars, books and other items that can not be identified.

 

Instinctively, he passes his hand over his abdomen. Bandages. Pain is a distant echo of what it used to be. He feels grateful for that.

 

The memories of the lived events suddenly assail him. The murder of his parents, the kidnapping, the cage, the weapon, Astre...What has happened to him ?!

 

Anxiety leads him to abruptly get out of the bed and then, the distant echo of pain from his wound, in a moment becomes a scream. No, he is not yet cured and the pull of the flesh reproaches him for his brusqueness. He can not keep small tears from sliding down his eyes.

 

He is still trying to recover when the door opens.

 

Undertaker?

 

* * *

 

 

Undertaker, his father's friend. The gravedigger. He has saved him. He has taken care of his wound and replaced the blood he has lost with another. _Transfusion_ , he hears him say. But his dazed mind barely registers the strange word.

 

Then, later, he will think of it. He will associate the pain in his arm with the needle's stitches and also think other things like ... Where did the blood that saved him come from?

 

Not now, it's not time. In that moment he has other things that worry him.

 

"Astre?"

 

Undertaker does not hesitate.

 

"Astre is in danger," he says and he feels a sense of emptiness in his chest. The relief of knowing that his brother is alive soon is replaced by growing anxiety.

 

"Danger? How? Who ..?"

 

The questions crowd in his throat. He is not sure what he needs to know first. But Undertaker has patience. Throughout the days that his recovery entails, the gravedigger gives him bits of information. As if Ciel had, in some way, incarnated his father, the man fulfills his role of informant also with him.

 

Undertaker talks about hidden enemies. Of conspiracies. Of the position of his father and his real work as a guard dog of Queen Victoria. He talks about a strange black butler who has become the shadow of his brother ...

 

He talks about all of that in a low, almost whispering tone. He had never heard him speak in that way and it is that, more than his speech itself, that makes him understand the seriousness of the situation.

 

Someone has betrayed them. Someone has wanted to eliminate the family from the board. Someone has almost succeeded ..

 

 

* * *

 

 

The weeks pass with extreme slowness. His healing is delayed and he often loses patience. He knows that he must rest, that it is a miracle that he is alive, but on the other hand ... he wants revenge, he wants to discover the truth.

 

He can barely leave the bed for brief intervals .. his steps are short, clumsy, the wound tugs at his skin with fury every time he makes a movement without thinking. Not to mention walking upright.

 

Anger and exasperation assail him like a cloud of wasps and he only has one person to retaliate.

 

Ciel speaks to him in a bad way, shouts at him, rejects his books and does not laugh at his jokes. He knows that the other only tries to encourage him, to make his stay more bearable ... but his manners have been forgotten and he does not contain himself.

 

He misses his parents and he's so angry. With those who ruined his life, with those who separated him from his brother, with those who hurt him ... but more fundamentally with himself. For being so clumsy, for not doing anything to avoid it ..

 

When the anger dissipates, he feels even worse. The guilt of having directed his anger against the wrong person devours him.

 

_Unkind, ungrateful, he has no obligation to you or your brother and yet …_

 

 

* * *

 

 

He never leaves him alone for long periods. If he is not by his side trying to make him eat or trying to somehow dissipate his depression, is in the store doing his job. The sound of his boots against the wooden boards and the echo of his giggles are a constant.

 

That day instead ..

 

He must leave for longer. Maybe, a day or two ... he did not specify. A diligence, a commitment, he does not listen him. He just nods his head without uttering a word. He has risen in a awfull mood that morning. Outside, it rains torrentially and the humidity causes the wound to manifest its presence with sharp stitches.

 

At first, he enjoys his freedom. The silence, the store in calm, without clients, without any body in preparation. Taking his time and with the help of a cane, he goes around the place. Undoubtedly it is gloomy, but he has already become accustomed to its darkness, its peculiar smells ...he no longer feels afraid of the dead. He has understood that the living, without doubt, are more dangerous.

 

When at nightfall of the second day he does not arrive, he begins to worry. Where has he gone? When is he coming back?

 

His steps take him from the door to the window. With increasing anguish he observes the people crossing the streets, waiting to find the bulky hat and the dark tunic. Nothing.

 

The third day passes without news. Food is not a problem, Undertaker has left plenty and he is able to cope with that aspect. Is strange to dine without him, without listening his laughter and his steps. The silence becomes oppressive.

 

The fourth day, the “maybes” begin..

 

_Maybe he has also been caught.._

 

_Maybe he was murdered .._

 

Or maybe ..

 

And it´s then, when Ciel forces himself to swallow before thinking it...

 

_Maybe he got fed up with you and abandoned you._

 

* * *

 

 

His absence lasts a full week. The seventh day dawns with an icy cold. Few people circulate in the street. When he sees the familiar hat approaching the entrance of the store, he no longer cares about his anger, his wound, or his sadness, he runs as best he can, helping himself with the cane, leaning on the different pieces of furniture until he reaches him.

 

Undertaker barely manages to cross the door when he is caught in a hug. He has been taken by surprise. He can not even leave the things he has brought because the boy does not let him move. Ciel face´s sunk into his tunic and small spasms shake his body.

 

"You're back." That's all he can say because the crying closes his throat.

 

Ciel realizes that it is the first time he cries, after everything that has happened.

 

 

To be continue..

 

 


	8. Ciel (Second part)

From that day on, their relationship changes. Ciel knows that he hinders him, that the other must strive to adapt to his constant presence... but he can not help it.

 

During the day, he spends the hours in his room, trying not to be seen by customers. In the nights instead, he does not move away from his side. He adapts his senses to the horror of bodies and death, and observes him working. He does not like it, of course. In spite of that, he tolerates it in order to remain with him.

 

Undertaker is particularly happy at that time. His hands travel carrying instruments, suturing, making up, producing an almost hypnotic effect.

 

"His skull has been particularly damaged Mr. Smith, but we can fix it ..."

 

"This dress will suit you very well, Miss Patton .."

 

Ciel notes that he often speaks to them. He always uses their names and although his clients never respond to him, he does not stop doing it. In spite of his strange mannerisms and his singular personality, in his dealings with the bodies he shows a respect, almost reverential.

 

It is so much that one day, when a particularly damaged young woman enters to the preparation room, he finds himself comforting her.

 

"Don´t worry, you're going to look great. You're in good hands."

 

The loud laugh that comes from the gravedigger at the sound of his words, almost seems to make the store tremble.

 

*

 

The days pass and between them a kind of routine is installed. They do almost everything together. Even sleep.

 

After a particularly hectic night, Undertaker seems to opt for that solution. It was that, or have the boy checking all the coffins until he finds him.

 

Ciel feels especially grateful for that. Every time he huddles next to him and plays with his hair until falling asleep, he is at peace.

 

However, he can not avoid the distant echo of his father's voice reproaching him ..

 

"That behavior is not proper for a Count .."

 

But he can not do anything about it. He needs to sleep, rest, and the presence of the silver-haired man drives away the fears and terrors of his dreams. He has no choice.

 

It is during one of those nights that something unexpected happens. He wakes up at dawn. It's strange. It is always Undertaker who gets up at dawn to prepare their breakfast and open the store. But not this time ...

 

Unable to go back to sleep, he dedicates himself to observing and thinking about him.

 

Throughout those months, he had done so much for his person ... and he does not even know his name. Despite his insistence to know, he could only get a mysterious answer.

 

"It's been so long, I've forgotten it."

 

Ciel does not understand how something like that may be true, but he does not press it either.

 

Even asleep, the hair conceals his features. Ciel continues with his sight the path of the scars in his skin. He focuses on the brutal wound that cuts across his face, continuing through the mark that surrounds his neck to his hands. All the skin in sight seems to be traversed by signs of old wounds.

 

When he realizes that, he feels overwhelmed by an immense empathy. How did he get them? How much has he suffered? He thinks of his own scar. Just a few points, and yet it has been the result of countless headaches. He can not even imagine what he must have felt.

 

That night a promise is made.

 

_No matter how, no matter what it costs, I will not let anything hurt you again._

 

*

 

The subject with long red hair arrives one day when they are about to close. He cautiously remains hidden behind the curtains that separate the store from the apartment. He must be careful. Nobody can know that he is alive.

 

Ciel does not like him. It is not only his shrill tone that bothers him, but his way of addressing him. He gets too close and his hands do not seem to be still. He speaks to Undertaker with a confidence that can only be gained after a long time and he allows it. He smiles and maintains the conversation naturally, as if his closeness was not a problem, as if the obvious love intentions of the other character did not displease him.

 

Ciel hates him. He has hardly seen him once, but he already hates him.

 

Who is he to get so close?

 

What right does he have to talk to him in that way?

 

Ciel can only hear snatches of the conversation, mostly from the stranger. Undertaker's voice is barely a whisper in comparison. He can only clearly hears a word.

 

"Distraction."

 

He does not understand, but apparently the newcomer neither. He makes a scandal. He says that he does not serve for that, that he can´t do it.. and a string of other things, in an exaggerated and melodramatic tone.

 

From his range of vision, Undertaker seems to enjoy the little show, since he does not stop emitting that little giggle so typical of him. Given this, the other seems to be offended and makes a move to leave the place and that is when everything changes ..

 

The jocular atmosphere disappears when Undertaker holds the redhead by the wrist, preventing his exit. In a second, he stops being the carefree man he knows to become something else. Ciel does not understand exactly what changes, but suddenly there is something ominous about him when he approaches the visitor's stupefied ear and tells him a few words. The effect is so powerful that he instinctively steps away too.

 

 _Danger_ , says a voice in his mind.

 

After that, the redhead blushes heavily and nods, to finally leave the place.

 

*

 

Ciel does not mention the meeting until two days later. It is evident that the other suspects that something is happening to him, since his humor has been dismal.

 

Ciel does not understand what is bothering him so much, but he feels somewhat disappointed.

 

There was so much he did not know about Undertaker. He could not even know his name, but that red-haired man seemed to has all the luxury of addressing him so familiarly ...

 

The gravedigger is writing down something in his order book when he is interrogated.

 

"Who was he?"

 

The boy's posture, with his arms on his hips and demanding air, makes him smile. The question takes him by surprise and at first he does not know what he is referring to.

 

"Who was who ..?"

 

Ciel sighs with exasperation. He is not for games.

 

_You can save your name and your past to yourself, if you so desire. But this time, I need answers.._

 

"The guy who entered the store two days ago. The one with long, red hair, with strange clothes. He knew you. Who was he?"

 

"Oh."

 

Undertaker´s mouth draws a gesture of surprise while closing the notebook, giving him all his attention.

 

"So that's what happened to you? Grell is a dear friend. Did it bother you that she came?

 

Ciel perceives the condescension in his words and that alters him even more.

 

"He did not look like a woman."

 

Undetaker must have been joking if he thought he would believe that. Despite his feminine appearance, it was obvious that the happy Grell was a man.

 

Undertaker remains a few seconds in silence. Then he makes a gesture with his hand to tell him to come closer. Ciel doubts. At that moment he wants to be angry and can not be angry if he is so close to him.

 

They are like that for a while. One with one hand extended and the other hesitating, until the boy finally gives up and sits on his lap.

 

The tone of the gravedigger is gentle and conciliatory and he can already feel that he regrets having been angry in the first place.

 

"Grell claims to be a woman. Sometimes, people need to be, what they say they are. No matter that reality may be different .. "

 

At that moment, Ciel listens to him but can not understand what he means by that. It is only at night, when he places his head on his chest, preparing himself to sleep, that the words acquire meaning for him.

 

_Sometimes, people need to be, what they claim to be ..._

 

With a touch of guilt, he thinks he would want Undertaker to be his real father. That what happened to his parents and his brother was just a bad dream and that his life had always orbited within the limits of that little shop. A life without great titles or riches, but also without enemies.

 

It is a silly and selfish idea ... but he can not deny that he has thought it and wanted it.

 

After that thought, Ciel does not dislike Grell so much.

 

 

 

*

 

 

The symptoms begin that summer.

 

 

Tiredness, fever, lack of appetite. He does not know what it is, but Undertaker is still at his side as always. Undertaker brings him concoctions, herbal remedies and other substances.

 

He drinks everything with the blind trust he has placed in him. At times, his health improves, but then it decays again. It is unfair. His wound was closed and scarred, so why ...?

 

 

At the end of the summer, Ciel makes his decision. He must contact Astre.

 

 

To be continue..

 


	9. Revelations

Chapter 9: Revelations

 

When they reach port, Astre realizes that they are not in England. The coasts, the houses ... nothing is familiar.

 

In the last hours he had been so absorbed in the events reported by his brother, that has lost the notion of time and space.

 

Repeated times he had tried to talk to Undertaker, but the Shinigami hadn´t left his cabin since they last interacted during breakfast.

 

"Sometimes he does that," his twin had told him when he met him in the corridor. "When someone talks to him about the past, he locks himself up and talks with his reliquaries. You must be patient."

 

_I've been too patient_. Astre thinks with resentment.

 

It was absurd to think that a closed door could stop him. On another occasion, he would simply ask Sebastian to throw it down to demand the answers he could not get by himself. Now instead...

 

Sebastian was no longer there and the weight of his own impotence turned on him. He was useless, weak as any child. He only had one factor in his favor if he wanted to be successful in the situation. His intelligence. He must have been clever if he did not want to end up as his butler.

 

* * *

 

 

The crew moves around the deck transporting things, carrying suitcases and communicating animatedly. He tries to locate his servants, but it is difficult in the middle of the crowd.

 

_Where are they?_

 

A stocky man with a thick white beard shouts something from the dock. His language is closed and abrupt. It is not English. It is a language that seems to have been created to give orders. He does not speak the language, but he would recognize it anywhere.

 

“Why are we in Germany ?!” Astre asks his brother as soon as he enters his cabin. The room is full of jars and small bottles. The strong smell of herbs floods his senses. Ciel is storing some clothes in a small suitcase. His unexpected appearance surprises him.

 

“Oh! Astre..we are going to stay in one of the properties that the family have here. I have spent the last few months there, the German climate is very pleasant and ...

 

“You're crazy if you think I'm going to stay in this country.” He interrupts abruptly. His voice is firm and authoritative. “I have to go back to England. Now!”

 

Ciel seems misplaced with his demand.

 

“You can´t go back! He says It's very dangerous!

 

Astre is fed up. He will not be manipulated. Not again. Even if it is his brother, he will not allow it.

 

“I don´t care what he says! I understand, he has saved you. But you trust that guy as if he were a member of the family and you don´t even know who he is or what he's up to!

 

His twin tries to argue, but he does not allow it.

 

“You can do whatever you want. I must return home.”

 

Ciel could do what he wanted. If he had survived all that time in the Shinigami's care, maybe his intentions were not to hurt him. But that did not mean that his luck would be the same.

 

In another time, perhaps he would have fought, even against a God of death as long as he was not separated from his brother. His current reality was different. He had ceased to be the trusting and fearful child. Only he could take care of himself now. His life was the only priority.

 

With those thoughts, he turns willing to leave the room.

 

“I'm dying.”

 

Ciel's voice is a low murmur. His words have the nuance of insecurity typical of a revelation. As if he did not really speak to him, but to himself.

 

_What?_

 

* * *

 

 

The landscape passes at great speed. From the window of the train Astre can notice that the sun rises in the sky. The hills, the fields, everything seems to be much brighter and clearer in that country.

 

He doesn´t like it. Accustomed to moving in the atmosphere charged by the chimneys of London, the fresh German air and the lack of haze are disturbing. As if in some way in that country he could not hide.

 

The image that returns the reflection in the glass, bothers him too. His brother has yielded to fatigue. His body is completely recharged in the figure of the Shinigami, who passes one of his hands through his hair with an absent gesture.

 

The gesture is so absurdly fatherly that he feels that sense of unreality again. As if that reallity was the product of a dream.

 

He also feels exhausted. He has not slept at all for fear of lowering his guard. However, he must concentrate. The Shinigami is in front of him. At last, he has the opportunity to see him, to talk to him, to elicit all the questions he wants. But instead, silence has been installed in the compartment. A dense, thick silence, full of unspoken words and unformulated questions.

 

“I had to do it.” Finally, it is Undertaker, who breaks the taciturn air that has been installed. His sight does not deviate from the landscape.

 

“I had to separate you from that beast before it was too late.”

 

Astre, at first, does not know what he means. _Beast? What beast?_ Until he understands. Sebastian. Anger bubbles up inside him, driving away the tiredness and the sleepiness of the trip.

 

“Why?” He spits the word with barely contained poison.

_Why break the contract? Why meddle in my issues? I should have die. The revenge and then a dignified death. I should.._

 

“It would have devoured you in the next moment to know the truth about your brother. Your revenge, your plans ... Do you really think that creature would have allowed it? That beast played the butler in the same way that cats play with their prey before killing them.”

 

Astre is stunned for a moment, processing the words. He can not avoid the image of Sebastian enthralled by some feline during certain missions..

 

“That is not true, the contract ...”

 

A little laughter floods the place. Undertaker uses the hand that is not on Ciel's hair, to cover his mouth and avoid awakening him.

 

“Ah yes..the contract. A contract made by a demon. Inviolable, intransgredible .... that's what they like to say. The reality is another. Sebastian could have taken your soul at any time. The happy contract was no more than a facade created for its own fun.”

 

It's his turn to laugh. He can´t believe it. If everything was a farce, then why take so much trouble?

 

Guessing his question, the Shinigami continues in a lower tone. Almost as if he were talking about a confidence.

 

“You see, in subjects so longevous as us, the needs do not charge the same value as in humans. Hunger, thirst, attraction ... there is no hurry for them. Without the threat of death, there are no real dangers. There is nothing that could put our existence at risk except for one thing ... boredom.”

 

The man smiles sideways, focusing his eyes on him. His green eyes can be seen behind the silver strands.

 

“Your lives are very short. You can not experience all its power. But I must tell you that boredom is the only real enemy. It is installed in the routine as a shadow from which you can not detach. It can really make anyone lose their head ...”

 

He sighs with a snap of his lips.

 

“Shinigami, Angel, Demon ... it does not matter what you are. If you are immortal, boredom will go after you and Sebastian was no exception. He would have done anything to prolong his fun. Anything except ... renounce the taste of your soul. You were not afraid of dying. Your peculiar desire to be punished for the death of your brother was what made your soul such a unique specimen. Knowing that your brother was alive after all, would have taken that wonderful flavor from your soul.”

 

Astre is silent for a few seconds. The train slowly stops its march. Through the window, the lush fields give way to a small town. Houses appear here and there. Apparently, they have reached their destination.

 

"Why are we in Germany?" He asks, abruptly changing the subject.

 

He has decided that it is not worthwhile to continue talking about Sebastian. He has no way of checking if the Shinigami's words are true. Defending the devil would imply assuming that deep down, he had formed an affective relationship with him. A reckless move.

 

“It is the most sensible.” Responds the Shinigami while caressing the dark mane of the child on him.

 

“England has become a dangerous place for everyone. The enemies are duplicated at every moment and on the other hand ... “ His dark tone changes to a more jocular and carefree.

 

“Ciel adores the mountain breeze! It is not like this?” He asks, playfully sinking one of his long nails on the boy's cheek.

 

Astre observes that Ciel complains slightly, but continues in his dream. The man seems amused by the reaction and continues to playing with him until he manages to wake him up.

 

Astre sees them interact. They look like a father and his son. At that moment, he can not help thinking about what his brother said before getting on the train.

 

_I'm dying._

 

And after that disconcerting revelation ... the request. He had revealed the reason for contacting him.

 

_He needed him._

 

"I'm dying. It's important that you stay with Undertaker" He had said in a voice so low that he had had to approach to hear it. "It's important, because he will not be able to stand it alone."

 

He still did not come out of his disbelief. Definitely, Ciel had lost his mind.

 

 

To be continue...

 


	10. The dark crow smiles

The residence that the family owns in Germany, it´s smaller than the main mansion. However it is impressive. It is that, or perhaps it is the sharp contrast that a house of these characteristics produces in such a small town.

 

Astre has never been there. He has known of his existence by his father's comments, but he had never visited it before. From the outside it looks compact. With its windows everywhere and multiple floors stacked one on top of the other, it transmits the sensation of orderly chaos. The separate parts would not make sense, but as a whole everything seems to work.

 

Undertaker moves freely through its grounds. The grass is properly cut and the plants are well maintained. Someone has been taking care of the place. _All this has been planned_ , he thinks. _The fact that we came here has not been a random move._

 

His brother recharges in the Shinigami to be able to advance.

 

"The trip has exhausted him," he says with a half-sided smile, as if he had asked for some explanation. Almost instantly, the echo of Ciel's voice echoes in his mind.

 

_I'm dying._

 

Astre moves his head from one side to the other. It is not time to think about that.

 

* * *

 

Once inside, he checks the mansion. There are no closed doors or places of restricted access. No surprises seems to be waiting for him there. Internally, he feels relieved not to run into coffins containing the bizarre creations of the Shinigami.

 

He can go outside and go around. No one seems to pay too much attention to him. Nobody stops him or slows down his march. He takes advantage of those moments alone to think. Since Sebastian appeared in his life, he has never been on his own again. Freedom produces him a disturbing sensation.

 

The intentions of Undertaker are still a mystery. If his brother's words were real and he was really dying, what role did he have in all of that? Staying with him? Why? Absurd.

 

He could only aspire to get to the bottom of all that by following his game. He had gone too far to retire and anyway, he has nothing to lose. He still has revenge as his primary goal. Without Sebastian, staying close to the Shinigami is the only way to unravel that riddle.

 

* * *

 

He has noticed that his servants have been remarkably restless since they arrived. Mey-rin and Finnian can not hold his gaze, while Baldroy adopts a stoic position every time he crosses him. Their strange behavior is far from the clumsy nonchalance to which he is accustomed to, but he has not given them much importance either. He has had more crucial things to think about.

 

Finally, one afternoon after two days, he understands what happens to them. It is Tanaka who approaches to request, but his voice represents everyone's.

 

They need a funeral.

 

The unusual request leaves him speechless. A funeral? But then he understands. Sebastian's death has not gone unnoticed by them. They need to mourn him. He allows it almost without thinking. If it's what they need to stop acting so strange, well ...

 

While watching Finnian nail the symbolic cross in the garden, he has to place a handkerchief over his mouth to prevent others from noticing his smile.

 

This is how he is involved in another absurd situation. Faking a funeral without a body, without a coffin ... commemorating a demon with a Christian cross.

 

What would Sebastian think of all that?

 

No doubt he would smile too. Sebastian used to have a very particular sense of humor, like that time when he had had a relationship with that puritanical girl to get information..

 

In that moment, a sudden melancholy assaults him and he must leave the place. It's been ridiculous enough for one afternoon.

 

They could never understand what Sebastian had meant to him. Sebastian had been his. His demon, his weapon, but also something else. Something that was not in the plan, something that he would have liked to avoid ..

 

In his bedroom, the accomplice smile that the devil directed him on certain occasions returns again and again to his memory. That smile had been his downfall. Different from any other, scarce, reserved for extremely specific moments in which he could clearly perceive that there was a complicity between them. That everything was already said and spoken between the two, that both knew the final destiny of their relationship and still ...

 

If the Shinigami words were true or not, it did not matter. If his role had been to be just entertainment, he was proud of having played his part well.

 

He should not be alive. He must have given his soul to the devil. Not only because he had made a contract, but because Sebastian deserved it.

 

* * *

 

 

That night he dreams of him. He dreams with his smile, with his eyes, with the sharp jaws that appear behind his half-open lips, with the delicate brush of his hands when he approaches him to take his face and …

 

Is that a dream or a memory?

 

He does not know, it does not matter ... because at that moment Sebastian's mouth is sealed over his and the moment is so intimate, that the rest of his thoughts lose meaning. He seeks to cling to his suit, to something that causes the world to end up spinning around him, but discovers that there is no longer a garment to cover him and then he understands.

 

Sebastian is going to take his soul. There is nothing else that separates them, nothing will avoid it this time ... and he smiles, he has waited for so long.

 

He allows him to do it without resisting. He is docile and complacent in his arms. At last, he can stop acting disdain, stop pretending that he does not care, that he is just an instrument ... that he does not love him.

 

He wakes up with a sharp pain in his throat. Sebastian is gone. He feels something strange in his face, and looks at his hands..

 

Tears? Is he crying for Sebastian?

 

Undoubtedly, the demon would have laughed a lot that day.

 

 

To be continue...

 

 


	11. Bad intentions

It has been several weeks since his arrival at the German mansion. Astre spends a lot of time alone, thinking, meditating. There is not much to do in the place. Undertaker frequently goes to an uncertain destination and his brother spends most of his time resting in his bedroom.

 

He feels lost. Sometimes he wonders what happened to his company, to the things he left behind in England. Without a routine, or papers to fill, or a company to run, idleness turns against him. Each time the frustration assails him, the Shinigami's words resound mockingly in his mind. _Boredom is the only real enemy._ He can almost prove him right.

 

He intuits that, at this point, public opinion must consider him dead. He could imagine the covers of the newspapers with his photo on the front page, giving their condolences ... again.

 

How many deaths could someone suffer in a lifetime?

 

Undoubtedly, if he returned, British society would consider him a true miracle. That thought makes him smile. A miracle, just him ....

 

However, that was not important. What was really important was what would happen in the underworld in his absence, would Queen Victoria and the aristocrats of evil know about his current location?

 

*

 

The rumblings begin one night, at the beginning of the rainy season. He, at first, takes the shuddering sounds by thunders. However, there is something strange about them. They feel more like the roars of a furious beast than like pops from the sky. The interior of the forest lights up with each bellow and then, he understands that there is nothing natural in them.

 

Taking care not to be seen, he sneaks around the perimeter of the property. He hides behind a tree at a safe distance. The hours pass until he can account for the origin of the mysterious sounds.

 

A weapon, a kind of battle car is tested again and again by German soldiers. A compact beast made of metal, moves slowly through the forest. The impact force of its cannon is amazing. It destroys trees and land in its path with total ease. He has never seen anything like it.

 

It is clear that the weapon is confidential. They have been astute in testing their operation in such a remote place and under the sound of storms. Only he, having been inside the property, has noticed the sound.

 

Back in his room, he has difficulty making sense of what he has seen. He tries to relate the weapon to Undertaker but the pieces do not quite fit. Why would the Shinigami allow tests in the mansion? What is he going to do with such a weapon?

 

Soon, his questions are answered.

 

Diedrich arrives a copious day of rain. The corpulent man crosses the hall cursing under bad weather and rushes to meet the Shinigami in his office. He watches the scene from the first floor without being seen.

 

So, Diedrich knows something ..

 

Stealthily, he hides behind the door´s office trying to listen. He knows that his attitude is not proper to a gentleman, less than an earl. But he is already beyond the triviality of formalities.

 

Inside, Diedrich and Undertaker talk about the first's trip. The Shinigami makes fun of his wet clothes. As expected, soon, the other is obfuscated and asks to go to the matter for which he has been summoned.

 

Astre approaches unconsciously trying to capture the nature of the talk. However, the seconds pass and the Shinigami does not respond, until ...

 

“Oh, of course, I'll tell you right away. But first, we need another aristocrat of evil to accompany us. Astre, would you be so kind as to move into the room? The corridor is not the most comfortable place to have this type of talks ..”

 

Astre bites his lower lip, embarrassed to have been found in such an unworthy position. Of course the Shinigami would be able to account for his presence. With pride hurt but the forehead up, he enters the place. He can not let the others notice his embarrassment.

 

Diedrich greets him with a shake of his head. He does not seem surprised to see him. That way, he can conclude that the aristocrats know about his whereabouts.

 

Once he takes a seat, Undertaker speaks and when he speaks everything begins to fit. His frequent absences, his stay in Germany, the strange weapon, the bizarre dolls. All the pieces are arranged in such a logical plan, that he feels a fool of not having been able to visualize it before.

 

While the Shinigami's voice fills the place, both Diedrich and he remain silent. Astre, again, has the feeling that he is facing another version of Undertaker. A more serious version, more dangerous and dark.

 

When listening to his slow and grave voice, he is certain that the man in front of him is completely insane.

 

“Are you sure of this?”

 

Diedrich finally asks when the silence fills the room. Astre expected something else from him, a scandal, a firm opposition, a call to the reality principle. But no..

 

The Shinigami nods and the baron does not say more. He remains silent, perhaps fighting some internal struggle. A few moments later, he also nods. He has given his support and consent.

 

Astre can´t do that.

 

“You are crazy.” He tells the Shinigami and his words suddenly sound exaggeratedly loud in the room in silence.

 

Undertaker observes him, measuring him. His green eyes seem to glow, giving him a supernatural character. He smiles.

 

“It's possible.”

 

*

 

His brother stays most of the time in his room. He only comes out during the dinners that the three of them share together at the main table. Astre notes that his health has visibly deteriorated. His skin has acquired a haggard tone difficult to ignore.

 

After what he has heard, he must find a way to get him out of there, but his condition is delicate. On the other hand, he knows that he would not leave voluntarily. His attachment to the Shinigami is undeniable. That, leaves him in a dead end.

 

Undertaker has returned to its usual personality. He tries to animate the dinners with jokes that only he seems to understand and with random comments. Ciel tries hard to keep up with him, but he seems too exhausted to laugh.

 

During dinners, it is almost possible to forget Undertaker´s true nature, his strength and his bad intentions. His hair covers his eyes, helping to transmit the playful and boyish air with which he has deceived him for so long.

 

_Why do you do it?_ He asks himself internally.

 

_Here, we all know what you really are, why pretend?_

 

Unless..

 

And then he understands it. In a burst of lucidity, the conclusion assails him like a lightning bolt on a dark night.

 

That night he smiles and his smile has nothing to do with the jokes he hears.

 

 

To be continue...

 


	12. Just one more moment

He has already spoken with his servants Tanaka, Finnian, Mey-Rin, Baldroy ..

 

With pleasant surprise, he has confirmed that they continue to be loyal to him. With discretion, he has communicated his plans to leave the mansion. Of course, Tanaka wanted to object to his decision ... however, in the end, he made it clear. They respect Undertaker but they will always remain his.

 

He reviews the plan one, two, three times. The suitcase is ready, it does not have too many belongings. His abrupt escape from Campania has left him with few objects of his own, only what he was carrying. In his small luggage there is some clothes of his size borrowed by his brother and some other valuables objects to sell at the right time.

 

He has decided to take the gun over just in case. He knows that with just one bullet, it is practically useless. Even so, the heavy metal against his abdomen inspires an illusory sense of security.

 

Any obstacle in the plan must be effectively eliminated. In spite of not having Sebastian as his personal guard, he has not forgotten the fact that he still has a small army at his disposal. Servants properly chosen for that work. They have been informed that they can use force.

 

The orders are clear. A carriage will wait for them the next morning to transfer them to the port. He must board the ship that will take him to England as soon as possible.

 

He has not trusted that a letter could carry that kind of news. What he had heard was too delicate. If its contents came to the wrong hands then ... No. It was his duty to inform Queen Victoria in person of the Shinigami's plans.

 

Everything is ready, only one thing is missing ... the hardest. But he trusts his abilities to achieve it.

 

*

 

Ciel, as expected, is resting in his bed. Astre enters the room by gently closing the door. The room is dim but he can guess the multiple jars of herbs that populate each of the dressers. _Too many bottles_ , he thinks with rejection.

 

His twin seems to sleep and he feels a sharp impression when he sees a face so similar to his with a look so haggard. Internally, he wish he could let him sleep, not disturb his rest with news of escapes and conspiracies. But time is short. Undertaker will return at any time of his daily incursion and he must make sure that his brother is aware of where he is, of what he chooses.

 

“Ciel.” He calls him quietly, sitting on the side of the bed. He does not respond. He moves him with gentleness. His brother opens his eyes in such a way that it would seem that this simple gesture would cost him work.

 

“Oh Astre, you're here, let me ...” He tries to sit up, but Astre stops him. He does not need to tire him out. He just needs him to listen.

 

“I leave in the morning. You are invited to accompany me if you wish.”

 

The reaction is instantaneous. His twin opens his eyes in surprise.

 

“Astre, you can´t go back to England! You know it's very dangerous and he .”.

 

“He is a Shinigami that conspires against the British crown.” He cuts him with haste.

 

Astre does not have time to argue. He must be as clear and direct as possible.

 

“He has established an alliance with other countries, including Germany, to invade England.”

 

Ciel does not seem to be able to get out of his surprise. Astre, on the other hand, knows that he is being abrupt, that he causes a great impact, but he must leave things clear. He is no longer responsible for his brother´s life, he has understood that only he can take care of himself. But at least, he's going to allow his brother to have options.

 

“I know that you have a relationship with him, but you must know his intentions. You must know that you are willing to destroy our home and everything that has meant our way of life. I don´t know why he keeps us here but I don´t want to stay long enough to find out. Although he calls himself the Count Phantomhive, I still have a duty with the crown and I must fulfill it.”

 

Ciel remains a minute in silence, processing everything. He would like to have more time, but the way his brother observes him demands a quick definition.

 

“You call him that way..Shinigami. What ...?”

 

_So it´s true._ Ciel does not know his true nature. That's why Undertaker made sure to always cover his eyes before him and pretend to be the cheerful subject to whom he was accustomed.

 

_Reliable, harmless ... that's how you wanted to present yourself in front of him. But I have discovered you_. Astre thinks with dark satisfaction.

 

“A God of death. If you don´t believe me, you can see his eyes. Double iris, all Shinigami have them that way.”

 

His twin is lost. He seems on the verge of crying.

 

“I know that in that moment you have taken my words of reproach against him as a fantasy, a delirium. "Strange creatures" you've heard and you've thought that I was nervous because of the trauma of being rescued from a shipwreck. But you must know that everything is real. Those creatures were corpses in motion that he himself had created ... And I'm afraid it's possible ... "

 

He says looking over the room full of jars." He might plan to do the same with you.”

 

It is done. He has said it. He has clearly expressed his speculations. Now it is his brother's task to decide his destiny. Marching with him to defend his home or on the contrary, stay with the strange gravedigger.

 

“A carriage will depart at dawn in the direction of the port. You are free to stay or come with me. The choice is yours.”

 

Having said that, he considers it appropriate to withdraw. He has already said what he had to say. He should let his brother meditate about it.

 

"I don´t blame you." Ciel's voice stops him halfway. "For pretending to be Count Phantomhive on that occasion. I know you were looking to protect me like you do now, that's why ... "He smiles tiredly." I don´t blame you.”

 

Astre is paralyzed. He did not expect a reference to that tragic night. Even so, he feels as if an invisible weight he had dragged during the past few years left him. With those simple words, his brother has that ability.

 

Astre observes him, then he nods. With all that has happened, he had forgotten how much he loved him.

 

*

 

Ciel watches Undertaker enter the room with a tray of food. His weakness no longer allows him to take dinners in the main hall. Like the last few nights, the man chatters about some trivial issue while maneuvering the tray to position it on himself. Seeing him, he can not help but think of his brother's words.

 

_Moving corpses_

 

_He plans to do the same with you .._

 

Ciel places a hand to stop his movements before the food is placed on his lap.

 

"I'm not hungry tonight," he says, trying to make a smile.

 

Undertaker's expression falters.

 

“Really? Well that's not good for your health, it's also your favorite dish. I convinced old Tanaka to prepare it ..”

 

While the other speaks, Ciel observes him. He really observes him. He still can not finish assimilating everything he has heard. His dark tunics, the constant presence of the reliquaries against his waist, the sharp black nails, the long silver hair. _Exactly how old is he?_ He does not know. _What's his name?_ He does not know either ... he has never told him about himself.

 

_He plans to invade England._

 

Ciel does not want to believe it. He really does not want to, but the lack of knowledge about his person threatens to make Astre's words come true. There is only one way to check its veracity.

 

His hand is stopped before he can get close to the other's face. Undertaker holds his wrist without pressure, but his grip is strong enough that he can not continue the action. Ciel wanted to remove the hair, contemplate his eyes ... but has been stopped.

 

A heavy silence falls between the two. The moment is brief, suspended in time. Unspoken words and unformulated questions seem to dance in the dark. The two contemplate each other, measuring themselves, evaluating ...

 

Until finally, Undertaker gives up. Something in his actions makes him look like he has lost some kind of battle. In that instant his grip loosens. His hand falls to one side and it is then that Ciel understands that he is free.

 

He can remove the hair if he wishes, he can see his eyes, he can reveal his identity ... but he does not need it anymore.

 

His hand continues the action as if there had never been a stop. But it is not directed to his eyes but to his cheek. He strokes it lightly, slides his hand through the silver braid and then clutches his clothes to seek to draw him to himself. The other seems surprised at his way of acting but does not resist either. Ciel locates himself in his chest. The silver curtain surrounds him and he feels at home.

 

_Sometimes, people must be what they say they are._

 

Undertaker had been his protector. He had saved him. Despite what would happen in the future, despite the reality that his brother sought to show ... he had taken care of him and he had loved him.

 

He owed him a goodbye before leaving.

 

It was so warm and cozy. It would only be a moment of being in his arms before leaving. Just one more moment.

 

*

 

Dawn finds them still embraced. The sun seeks to filter through a space between the closed curtains, but the light it emits is scarce to illuminate the place.

 

Undertaker has not moved an inch all night. Distantly, he feels the rumor of his stiff muscles, however he will not do anything about it. He will not move, because moving would imply Ciel's release and that is something he can not afford.

 

Less now, that the boy has stopped breathing.

 

 

To be continue..

 


	13. Undertaker

Dawns with a light mist covering the residence and its surroundings. It is still early, but the sun can already be seen from the curtain ajar. The light of the new day finds them in the same position they have maintained during the night. Ciel's head still rests on his chest but his hands no longer grasp him as they did a few hours ago ..

 

Cold.

 

Undertaker's hands touch the surface of his clothes, they slide to touch his numbed arms. Ciel is frozen. With an agile movement, he covers the boy with the blankets, but it is useless, the cold seems to come from inside ..

 

He does not understand. Why is he so cold? If he has been hugging him since ..

 

_Oh, it's true..._

 

Since he stopped breathing.

 

He stays a few more minutes in the same position. The mansion is silent. He can not feel the presence of the servants, nor Astre.

 

He's gone. It should matter. He would go after him, warn him that he is heading for a trap. But he can not do it. He can not take care of anyone else anymore.

 

With effort, he removes the boy's body from his chest to let him rest on the bed. He feels his muscles complaining due to long period of inactivity, however he doesn´t pay attention to them. He has a more crucial issue to think about.

 

He stands up slowly. A feeling of unreality invades him. He must take a moment before deciding his course of action. He closes his eyes. It's not the first time it happens, no ...

 

It has happened to him before. Many times.

 

How many, exactly?

 

Twelve, says a voice in his conscience and is curious because for him, time is an irrelevant concept. It is unusual to him to pay attention to numbers and dates. But on that occasion he is sure.

 

Twelve have been the times in which he has felt like this. Lost, absent, insecure ... as if somehow it was not he, who inhabited his body, but someone else.

 

Without knowing who he is or what he must do, his consciousness is momentarily suspended and wanders through faces of humans that have been important to him. Of humans who he has loved and lost ...

 

A slight pain takes him out of his reverie. With surprise, he notes that he has been clutching one of his reliquaries to such an extent that one of its corners has stuck in the palm of his hand. The blood blurs the infinity symbol that decorates the exterior.

 

Twelve, neither more nor less. Like the number of reliquaries he always carries around his waist.

 

Instinctively, he hides his hand among his robes. The boy is anguished when he sees him bleed and he does not want to scare him. As on that occasion when working on Mr. Stuart's corpse he accidentally cut himself with that scalpel. It had been a small, superficial wound, but the blood had soon spread like a blanket over his arm. He remembered that he had not been able to continue working that day, trying to calm Ciel's anguish.

 

"I don´t get it. You have seen blood many times! "He had said, referring to the mute clients who occupied the preparation room.

 

"It's different," Ciel had said, unable to contain the weeping that was choking him. "If something happens to you, I ..."

 

He had left him speechless. Until that moment he had not understood to what extent the boy had grown fond of him.

 

From that day on, he had made sure to be especially careful not to hurt himself in any way in his presence and had done so, until now ..

 

“Ah, it hasn´t been anything Ciel! Just an oversight, right away ... "The smile fades on his face as he turns his gaze to the bed. The eyes closed, the immobile body in the position that had left it ...

 

_You must order yourself , old fool._

 

The voice is, as always, poisonous like the bite of a snake. It breaks through his mind at breakneck speed and fills him with hurtful questions and words.

 

_Who are you talking to?_

 

_The boy is dead._

 

_A Shinigami should be able to distinguish it._

 

_Or is it that you are so blind that you can no longer see reality?_

 

No. That voice ..

 

He hated that voice. It always spoke to him on those occasions.It was cruel, cynical ... it chased him when he was most vulnerable.

 

He hated her. Of course he knew that it was a part of himself, that it was not a real presence. But that certainty did not help him in the least. In fact, it only made the situation worse because it showed him a part of himself that he preferred to keep at bay. A part so dark and sick that it forced him to do things, that took him to ..

 

The image of his bizarre dolls gets in his thoughts. Their hungry mouths, their blind eyes, their guttural cries ..

 

With a murmur he invokes his Death Scythe. The eccentric scythe looks exaggeratedly large inside the walls of that narrow room. When noticing that, he can not avoid a grimace of displeasure. On that occasion he would prefer a smaller, more delicate weapon ...

 

The long, sharp blade had been designed to fight against fierce demons in the darkest ages of mankind, not to be sunk into the body of a child. A child he had loved, that had been his son ..

 

_Really? Your son?_ He could almost swear he had felt the mocking laughter near his ear. The voice was not going to leave him alone.

 

Nervously, he runs a hand over his head, removing the hair from his face. With the other, drag the heavy scythe across the wooden floor to stand beside the bed. On his way, his gaze rests on the jars of herbs he has been using.

 

Everything had been in vain.

 

He seriously thought that this time he could ...

 

He had saved him, had sewn his wound, replaced his blood with another ...

 

He had worked so hard ...

 

Useless.

 

Nobody can fight against death.

 

He smiles at the irony of the situation. But if he was "Death," then why ...

 

_Because there is nothing alive in you. Because there never has been. Because there never will be._

 

With horror he brings his hand to his mouth, covering it. It is an absurd gesture. He knows that the words do not come from his mouth but from his mind. Even so, he needs to do something to stop them ..

 

Ciel.

 

He must focus his attention on Ciel. Then, he can lose the time he wants. Then, he can let the voice occupy all his reason, let the words devour him with their harshness. After. Not now.

Now he must take care of comforting the boy. To explain ...

 

“This will not hurt. I must do it. " He looks around, as if searching for strength somewhere in the room. It's been a while since he felt so insecure with his Death Scythe. As if it were the first time he did it.

 

Like his clients at the funeral home, the boy does not answer. Undertaker raises the scythe and the weapon emits its mysterious sound before falling on his body. The blade sinks gently into his chest. Blood begins to soak the sheets. Soon, the place is flooded by cinematic records.

 

His first years..

 

Rachel's face is the first thing he sees, the mansion, sheets, toys ..

 

He watches Ciel fight another baby for a plush rabbit. _You have never liked sharing_ , he thinks, smiling internally as he watches Tanaka try to mediate between the twins.

 

The year spasses. The relationship between brothers changes, they no longer fight. Astre does not seem to be able to detach himself from Ciel´s side. Sebastian, the huge black dog gets in his way, throws him to the ground and Ciel cries. Sebastian is noble, but he does not stop having the savagery of any animal.

 

A gentle smile is drawn on his face when he sees Vincent in one of the pieces of film. The man seems to return his gaze. Unable to stop it, he greets him "Oh hello friend, time has passed .."

 

The cinematics continue to detach from the body at high speed. Soon they hit the ceiling. Lacking space, they go back down in a circle around the figure of the Shinigami.

 

Undertaker remains stoic before their deployment, observes the kidnapping of the brothers, their cries of impotence, feels the anger radiating through the tapes and also the fear, the pain ...

 

He would like to look away when he sees Vincent's bloody body, when he witnesses the shot that almost ends with the boy's life. But he does not. He owes them. They have gone through all that, they have lived it, because he has failed them. Not only to Ciel but to the entire Phantomhive family. Witnessing their suffering is part of his punishment ..

 

Tears slide down his face.

 

_Sorry. I´ve never wanted..._

 

He sees himself through the boy's eyes. The gloomy shop. His gray days until he can recover. He contemplates himself trying to make him smile, encouraging him to make him feel better, preparing cookies .... He has always tried to make them in the shape of dogs or animals, but his null creativity only allows bones. The boy eats them anyway. Hugs him. Seeks to be near at all times ..

 

The illness. His last months in Germany. He finds himself making unsuccessful efforts to save him, he hears again his request "I need to see Astre," the boat trip and then his confession "I'm dying."

 

S _o you knew ..._

 

He had tried to keep his spirits up, however the boy had not been alien to his reality. _Not like you_. Says the voice, and he shakes his head to make it disappear.

 

"It's important that you stay with him, because he will not be able to stand it alone."

 

That leaves him stupefied. He had always believed that his need to see Astre was driven by an unstoppable fraternal desire. Now he realizes that it was not due to that. Ciel thought about him. What would happen when he was gone. In how could he stand it ..

 

After that, he sees Ciel´s doubts, his fears of being turned into a bizarre doll.

 

"He plans to do the same with you"

 

Astre's words fill the room ..

 

“NO! I NEVER..!” He screams uselessly.

 

It is in vain, there is no one who can hear him..

 

More tears run down his cheeks and he must suppress a sob. Little by little, the cinematics records are wrapped in his wrists, they surround his waist, his arms, they slide down in his neck ...

 

They hold him. They bury themselves in his flesh, seek to drag him with the pain of the human. It's what happens when a Shinigami is moved, he knows it. He knows that he must cut them, that he must put an end to his life, but he can not ...

 

He can not do that to him. Ciel was right, he is not ready to let him go. Panic seizes his chest. He is forced to release his scythe and then he knows it, the two will be dragged into the void. There is nothing to do. Cinematics cut him, hurt him, seek to break him and he does not resist anymore.

 

He does not resist ...

 

A pair of scissors cut the records, releasing him from his deadly grip. Suddenly, everything ends. There is no fight anymore. A heavy silence envelops the room.

 

 

To be continue...

 


	14. Grell

Grell looks carefully at her notebook. Ciel Phantomhive's face returns her gaze. Under his personal data is the cause of death. _So that's what happened to you._ She reflects a moment, then stamps on his photo "No special considerations."

 

Around her, the room is in shadows. There are no sounds that come from any corner of the home.

 

“How dreary. Let's let the sun in!”

 

She flips the curtains open. The room is lightly lit and then wrapped in shadows again. Dark clouds overshadow the recent clarity. They are still scattered in the sky, but soon they will unite to make way for the inevitable storm. She grimaces in disgust.

 

“Well....” She sighs, turning around.

 

The stage that receives her is worthy of a horror movie. There are traces of blood all over the room, on the sheets, the furniture, the walls ... some splashes have reached the ceiling. Cinematics could end up being brutal when they were left free for a long time. Fortunately, she had managed to get to the scene before the damage was greater.

 

“You've been lucky, dear. Although, I must say that I could have freed you before, but William decided to take my Death Scythe. You know, for the whole Campania affair ...” She winks in complicity.

 

The bloody figure that is now Undertaker does not return her gaze. He does not even seem to have noticed her presence.

 

She has seen him like this before. She knows what is the best way to proceed. At this moment, he is very far away and will delay to return.

 

“Good, enough of chatter. You need to take a bath and sew those wounds. Come here.” Using her body as a support, she gets the other Shinigami recharge his weight on her.

 

Upon reaching the bathroom, Grell releases him carefully from his black robes, the reliquaries and leather boots.

 

“Very well, the tub is ready, you can enter.”

 

Undertaker is docile and malleable in her arms. He follows the instructions, does not ask questions, does not resist. Almost as if he were a doll. She does not like that state at all. But she knows that must be patient, that sooner or later he will return.

 

The water soon dyes red. She takes a sponge and submerges it, to later, slide it releasing the water on the Shinigami's pale shoulders. Then, she does the same with his face and neck. Withdrawing the hair and taking special care not to press too much, she cleans the blood that covers him.

 

Undertaker keeps his eyes closed during the whole process and she can not help but feel the unstoppable urge to kiss him. It is a soft gesture, without pretensions, she does not want to take advantage of his situation but it was so long ago that she did not see him ..

 

“You're still handsome” She says showing her sharp smile.

 

She was not kidding. He seems a handsome man, despite the scars, his current vulnerability, the new wounds that mark him.

 

She would always love him.

 

Her love went beyond the attraction of the flesh.They could understand each other. Both were fighting against something that they could not change and lived in a constant contradiction. A contradiction that, at times, made them lose their heads. She cursed a body that could not give her children, and he was tied to his love for humans.

 

Leaving aside her course of thoughts, she decides to concentrate on his hair. Gently disarms the braid to be able to wash it with ease. She lets the water drain on the silver strands. Her hands massage his temples in such a casual gesture that soon the whole situation takes on a homely touch.

 

At that time, the two seemed a stable couple sharing a sleepy afternoon of a holiday. Relaxing in the warmth of the water . Honestly, there would be nothing to indicate otherwise. Except for the blood, of course.

 

Sitting in the tub, with multiple wounds piercing his body, his bearing does not resemble at all the powerful Shinigami she knows he is. The man in front of her was defeated.

 

Grell knew first-hand the taste of defeat. She also embodied an eternal struggle in which she always ended up losing. There was no point in having hope, her masculine body always ended up showing her the reality, in spite of how she felt, how she chose to be ..

 

She had learned not to get excited, to adapt to her inevitable destiny. Undertaker, on the other hand ...

 

_You have failed. You have made the mistake of involving your feelings again and that has cost you._

 

Nevertheless, she would remain by his side as far as he was willing to go ...

 

Oh! And she knew how far he could ..

 

To sink transatlantics, to form armies of the dead, to destroy nations. She did not keep a deep appreciation for humans. In fact, she had not had any trouble killing a few, by taking revenge on women who rejected the gift of life. She understood that he must do the same with those who had harmed him ...

 

However, his plans went further. They involved many departments and violated innumerable rules of both the human and Shinigami worlds. Any association with him would culminate with her desertion and probably with her imprisonment.

 

She would be ruined. It would ruin not only her work and reputation but also any possibility of redemption she might still has on that plane.

 

She was aware of everything, of the inevitable fate that would sooner or later overtake them, of the punishments...

 

And despite that...

 

She could not be more sure of her decision.

 

Because deep down they were the same.

 

Absurds.

 

Shinigamis who loved life.

 

For that reason, she had followed each of his instructions. She had behaved in the way he required, providing data and information about the movements of the staff and finally, when the situation required, becoming a timely "distraction."

 

Her performance in Campania had, in effect, been a carefully elaborated number that sought to eliminate any possibility of association between Undertaker and her. He had gone for her face and she had acted accordingly. She had shouted and unleashed her anger against him. She had made sure not to measure herself, to seek to harm him, even to have a witness who could give credit for her actions. She still felt sorry for Ronnie. The boy did not deserve the beating he had been subjected to, but she had no alternative …

 

 

The office could not suspect. They knew her. They were aware of her effusiveness, of her passionate behavior, of her weakness for men. William had seen her interact with Undertaker previously.

 

Because of that, it was necessary to make a show that cut off any link between the two. A show that would make her place clear. Thus both could move freely.

 

In the end, she was a great actress ...

 

*

 

Her gaze instinctively falls on the recent wounds that trace patterns on the white complexion of her partner.

 

“ I'd better take care of you.”

 

While moving him to another room, she thinks that they should bury the boy's body. It will not be a difficult task. The mansion offers multiple places for burial. Then she will take care of that. Now she has to suture the wounds.

 

She makesUndertaker sit on the edge of the bed. With wet hair and wrapped in towels, his appearance is of extreme vulnerability.

 

“Don´t move, I'll be back.” He does not answer but she feels the need to tell him.

 

It takes a while looking for a needle and thread in the guest room. Finally she finds them. As she comes up with the sewing equipment in her hands, she can not help but think of his scars. When she met him, she would have sworn they were the results of his fight against other Death Scythes. In light of the recent events, she understood better.

 

No, it has not been Death Scythes that have marked him.

 

Cinematic records. The records had broken through in his flesh to the point that they had left their traces in their wake.

 

_How many times have you let yourself be dragged by them?_

 

_How many human deaths have destroyed your heart?_

 

She does not need an answer to that. They have been enough.

 

“ You just have to be patient ..” She says once she is next to him.

 

Standing on her knees in front of him, she sets aside the towels to start work. She is inches away from brushing his skin when she is stopped abruptly. Undertaker clutches her wrist, his gaze fixed on her.

 

"... Grell?" His voice is a raspy, barely audible whisper.

 

She smiles pleased.

 

_You're back._

 

 

 

To be continue...

 

 

 

 


	15. A message

His gaze wanders absently through the objects that populate the room, the closet in one corner, the oak chest of drawers, the bed, the sewing equipment on the floor, the perfect manicure hands that sew his skin ... until finally it lands on her. Her face. He stops there for a moment as if looking for something, as if just seeing her could take away the confusion that now invades him.

 

For several minutes none says anything. He, immersed in his thoughts and she, absorbed in her work. She has already finished with most of the wounds, only the one on his neck remains.

 

“It would be better if you lay down for this ..” Grell says approaching him to finish the task.

 

Undertaker nods silently obeying the request and sits gently on the bed. She watches him pull his hair to one side offering his pale neck. _How long has it been since she last had him like that?_ _Lying on a bed, placing his trust in her, at the mercy of what she could do .._

 

_Too much time_. She says to herself and her lips rise in a mischievous smile at the daring thought.

 

Since they had started their relationship, their encounters had been intense but fleeting. Both focused on maintaining their respective facades, there had been almost no time for both. That was something she would like to change. But there would be time to discuss the nature of their relationship. For now, the most important thing was to take care of him and his mental health.

 

“You must be more careful next time. Soon, all your wonderful skin will be riddled with scars.” She says when noticing that the wound has traced a new path in his throat.

 

He waits until she finishes her work before being able to speak to her. While she collects the items she has used to store them in the little box, he asks the question that has come around his mind since he noticed her presence in the place.

 

“ ... Ciel?”

 

Fortunately, she finds herself with her back to him, so that he does not notice how something on her face contracts when she hears that name.

 

“He is dead.” She informs quickly and easily. Grell has always thought that it is better to give bad news in that way. She knows how important the boy has been to him, and the anguish that will come with her sentence. For that reason, she is grateful that her voice does not waver. It is she, who must be strong in that situation.

 

When he looks back at her, for a second, she is afraid of losing him again. May his mind return to that labyrinthine purgatory where it falls every time something hurts too much. That is why she decides that must continue talking, to avoid it, to tie him to reality.

 

“He was very ill. The disease was transmitted through the blood. There was nothing to do.”

 

She would have liked to add: _It's not your fault. You did what you could for him._ But she does not say it, she knows it is in vain. He will blame himself anyway. He will reproached himself for not having been more careful with the blood, with the humans from whom he obtained it. But how to have known? His factor was so rare in society that he had barely managed to get some samples without raising suspicion in the underworld or in Shinigami's society.

 

He was clever. Very clever.

 

But Death was even more so.

 

“Don't listen to her” She asks him bringing her face close to his, noticing that he begins to have that taciturn air with which she has found him.

 

Undertaker seems surprised at her words, his gaze returns to focus on her.

 

Internally, Grell celebrates her success. She had always had her suspicions when he fell into that absent state. By knowing his history, she could understand it. A voice spoke to him in his mind, a voice sought to subdue him, tried to make him ruin with his guilt, showed him everything he had done wrong, his mistakes, his naivety ..

 

A voice that sounds too much like Queen Victoria's.

 

“She is just looking to make you lose yourself. She wants to drag you with her pain. She doesn´t know you, you must not listen to her ..”

 

Her hand runs smoothly over his face. He does not reject her. That is all the approval she needs. Soon, her mouth looks for his. It's an almost innocent kiss compared to their standards. But that's okay..

 

At that moment she does not want passion but something else.

 

She sheds her glasses and her clothes. No hurry. Although she knows that her hours with him are counted, that she will soon have to return to the office, that she must write a false report of her incursion, that her life will revolve around performances and lies...In spite of all that, she takes her time with him. Because she knows that it is necessary. Because on that occasion, she wants to leave a message ..

 

She hates his body. Whenever they have had sex, she has tried to make her anatomy, undeniably masculine, hidden by some garment. He has always reproached her for that, but there was never a case. The deep rejection of herself always won his words of acceptance.

 

However, that day is different. She opts, not without resistances and after an intense debate with herself, to remove all the clothes that cover her.

 

Undertaker's gaze runs through her in mute amazement. She feels intensely insecure at his scrutiny. Even so, she decides to continue. Grell wants to show him that she trusts him. That can be vulnerable in his presence.

 

Her thin fingers run through each scar, and touch the recent wounds. Having removed her glasses, she can barely distinguish them with her poor vision. But she does not need them. Her touch knows how to recognize them. She knows the roads that circulate through his skin. Paths that lead him to remember, to get lost in them ... she knows what those old wounds represent for him and that is why she takes long minutes to travel them. To let him know that she recognizes his pain. That she understands, but that they can also mean something else. That maybe, hopefully, the next time he notice them is not to be anguished with a past impossible to change but to remember something else ..

 

To think of her and her hands that caress him with tenderness.

 

Once it is ready, she gently removes the towels that covers him. She has always liked the solidity of his body. The way the muscles of his legs join his pelvis, the marked bones of his hips. She can see that there is nothing soft about him. That the bulky tunics hide bone and muscle. His body is young. Undeniably young. It does not reflect his years.

 

Seeing him that way, on the bed, waiting for her next move ... trusting, submissive, she would like to be able to tell him so many things.

 

_You are not the old gravedigger who only talks to the dead._

 

_You are not the creator of bizarre creatures._

 

_You are not the deserter, the enemy of the Shinigami world, the traitor of the British crown .._

 

When straddling him, her lips rise again, showing her sharp teeth. With an oscillation of her hips Grell soon have him inside of her. Both hiss at the sudden sensation.

 

_Or maybe_. .. She thinks before starts moving. _Maybe you are all that. But you are also something else .._

 

It is as if he could somehow hear her, because now his movements are so passionate that she fears for the recent injuries. She is about to tell him to take it easy, when it is interrupted by a bang. The mansion seems to vibrate at the impact as a furious wind opens wide the bedroom window. It takes a second for her to realize that it is only a storm, but that second is enough for the positions to be reversed.

 

Disconcerted at the sudden change of perspective, at first she does not react. _It was not the ceiling that I could see a moment ago_. A silver curtain falls from side to side of her face and then it is he who smiles.

 

_Oh no.._

 

_*_

 

Grell curses after finishing the last stitch. Of course he was not going to be able to take things easy. The pain in the lower part of her waist and the blood stains on the sheets were proof of that. Some wounds had reopened with the force of his passion.

 

“It is not funny.” She says to him when seeing the stupid smile that seems implanted in his face.- “You could have saved me from having to sew you again ... ..”

 

Undertaker emits a disapproving click.

 

“Oh, but it would not have been so fun ...”

 

_Maybe not._ A silent satisfaction is nestled in her chest when she realizes that he has returned to being the same as always.

 

It's a pity she can not stay. With sorrow begins to locate her clothes to be able to get dressed.

 

“I will return as soon as I can. Meanwhile, you must take care of yourself ..” Her hands take his face in an intensely intimate gesture. “Promise that you will do it.” Her tone is soft, almost supplicating. He nods before kissing her one last time.

 

She is not sure when they will meet again or under what circumstances. Maybe, their next encounter will be on a battlefield and then she will be forced to be her enemy again. An intense anguish invades her. She must disguise it.

 

“Well, it's better for you! The fact that I am a woman does not imply that I like the sewing work!” She announces with her characteristic enthusiasm and with that, she quickly leaves the room. She does not want him to see her cry. She does not want to show him her fear of losing him.

 

Outside, a light drizzle is all that remains of the nighttime storm. At another time, it would be very uncomfortable for her to have to walk in the rain knowing that her makeup was going to be ruined. In another moment ...

 

Today, her thoughts had other priorities. She must rehearse a plausible speech that deceives the office. She must lie to William about the circumstances of Ciel Phantomhive's death. That reminds her that she has not been able to bury the boy.

 

_He will do it. Given their relationship, that will be the best._

 

That's where her thoughts hang when she sees a carriage approaching the perimeter of the mansion. Grell keeps waiting until the vehicle is in front of her. When she sees who is its occupant, she can not prevent a gesture of displeasure from settling on her features.

 

“So it's you”

 

To be continue...

 


	16. King of the game

Astre sees Undertaker lowers one by one the steps of the stairs. His face is clear, his eyes in full view, his poise erect in all its height. Having him face to face in this way, without the facade he has sought to maintain until now, reminds him so much of that scene in Campania...

 

But this time it's different ..

 

This time, his hands do not carry the skeletal Death Scythe ..

 

On this occasion, what they carry is the inert corpse of his brother.

 

*

 

The ship had not been able to set sail. The powerful storm of the previous night had made any kind of navigation impossible. However, it was not for that reason that he had decided to return ..

 

_I do not blame you.._

 

His brother's words repeated themselves like a mantra in his mind. He had been sure of his actions. He had been honest with him. It was in him to make a decision. When he had not come to the agreed meeting place that morning, his obvious conclusion was that he had decided to stay.

 

He had no choice but to leave without him. He did not have time for sentimentality. If his decision was to stay by the Shinigami's side, he could not do anything about it. He had other priorities, his own life would always be above others. Until he completed his revenge, until he could fulfill his goal, he had to take care of himself because nobody else would do it for him.

 

And despite that...

 

Despite his powerful instinct for self-preservation, despite the voices in his mind that clamored for practical and rational decisions worthy of Count Phantomhive. Despite all those things, his brother's voice had made its way through everything.

 

How could he deny that he loved him? How could he lie if he was the one who always needed him?

 

He had not payed attention to Baldroy's worried looks, or Mey-rin's nervousness, or Finni's questions about why they were coming back. He was the master, his orders should not be questioned. It is what Tanaka reminded them before getting back into the carriage.

 

His body perceived it before him. A knowledge that was very difficult to conceptualize, a certainty impossible to define, typical of a connection as intimate as it was mysterious. A proper connection of the twins. On the way back, an intense feeling of discomfort had settled in his chest.

 

_I do not blame you.._

 

In an instant he knew. Long before arriving at the mansion, before meeting Grell in the gardens, before seeing Undertaker slowly descend the stairs holding his body ...

 

He knew that his brother was dead.

 

*

 

Undertaker passes by as if he did not see him. As if he was not important. Astre is not used to being ignored. In all his life, people had always addressed him with admiration, with deference, with respect, even with fear. He had always hated the attention that people placed on him, but it was something he had to get used to.

 

However, the total and complete indifference, especially of the gravedigger. That was something new ...

 

A bitter smile is drawn on his face.

 

He understands.

 

Today, he assimilated the true nature of events. The curtain had risen and now he could see the whole game. The game had not changed its rules, but simply, he had never understood them in the first place ..

 

Undertaker digs a well in the back garden of the mansion, in the shade of the trees, removed from sight. He does it in solitude. The servants, except probably Tanaka, have not yet realized what has happened. He, on the other hand, has not informed them either. Despite being his brother and that he would also have the right to attend his funeral, he prefers not to do so. The Shinigami had taken care of Ciel, had stayed by his side when giving his last breath. He had done for Ciel, more than he had done as a brother. He deserves that moment of peace and intimacy.

 

He sees him deposit the body wrapped in sheets on the ground and then stay a few minutes with him. He speaks to him. He can not hear what he says exactly, but he gives himself to the idea. He is probably asking for forgiveness for the precarious funeral arrangements. He, who is a renowned gravedigger in London, burying a corpse with nothing more than a simple sheet, is not his style.

 

When Undertaker returns to the mansion, his expression still remains inscrutable. When he reaches him, he stops his steps and speaks to him with that deep and slow voice that he has heard him on rare occasions.

 

"When you are willing to listen, you can enter .."

 

Astre remains a few seconds in the place assimilating his words, then go to give his last goodbye to his brother.

 

*

 

He is not sure what room to go to until he sees the door ajar from the office. He enters unannounced and closes the door behind him. Undertaker is sitting on a sofa near the large window that illuminates the place. With a glass of some alcoholic beverage that he can not identify in his hand, and his head tilted towards the exterior landscape, his attitude seems relaxed.

 

“Take a seat, please. You can serve whatever you want ..” He says making a gesture with his free hand pointing to a small table with drinks.

 

Astre declines the invitation while sitting in front of him. The sudden change of attitude has taken him by surprise. He has waited for the cold tone, devoid of emotion which has received previously, a rough treatment, full of reproaches, perhaps even violence ... but no.

 

Even having enough reasons to hold a grudge. Undertaker does not dump his anger against him ..

 

Ultimately, he could not help but acknowledge that his hypotheses had been false. The Shinigami could be guilty of many things ... except for not having loved his brother with sincerity. He did not plan to turn Ciel into a bizarre doll, he had not had any sick plans that involved him. His deep mistrust had led him to convince Ciel to flee from him. It had worried him, it had made him doubt his feelings. He forces himself to swallow when thinking about the possibility that perhaps, even the stress of his revelations has accelerated his death ..

 

As if he had read his thoughts, Undertaker responds to his most intimate fears.

 

“ He was condemned from the day I put that blood on him. Infections can be transmitted that way. Even a newbie would know. But there was no time to examine the samples, he lost blood and I ..”

 

He stops his speech abruptly. He has begun to have desperate tints and does not want that. Grell's sharp smile crosses his mind.

 

_I know, you're right .._

 

He can not go back to that place. He has promised it to her, so he takes a big sip of his drink to calm down. Alcohol burns his throat. The unpleasant sensation brings him back to reality.

 

"It does not matter now." He concludes as if he somehow knew that the other was also blamed for Ciel's death and wanted to ease his burden with that revelation.

 

Astre meditates about it. An illness. An illness killed his brother. He did not. He would like to think that he is free of guilt, but he feels that it would be a lie.

 

Undertaker swings the glass from side to side in an absent gesture. The drink crosses the crystalline surface with monotonous placidity. Astre studies it in silence. He has not overlooked the bandages that now cover his neck, but he chooses not to ask about it. He intuits that it is better to let the other choose how far he wishes to reveal.

 

For a long time, neither of them says anything. He begins to doubt whether his meeting with the Shinigami will lead him to understand his motives behind his actions when ..

 

“What do you think is more important for a monarch?” The drink stops its swing.

 

Astre is startled. The question has caught him off guard.

 

“It is not power, nor riches, nor tradition as many might think. At least not, for a great monarch.” The corner of his lips rises in a broad smile and then gradually blur to become a grimace “She is a great monarch ...”

 

The oppressive silence that follows his words forces him to speak.

 

"You mean her majesty, Queen Victoria.”

 

Undertaker fixes his eyes on him so abruptly that it makes him shudder. As if in some way, the mere mention of that name caused a state of alert in the Shinigami.

 

“Oh yes ... That woman. She was a young girl when the weight of the British crown fell on her but I knew her before. Long before. When her name was in the mouth of her parents as a wish ..” For a second his expression becomes dreamer with the memories. “She was a restless girl who was entangled in my robes and wanted to play with my reliquaries. They always scolded her for that. They were hard on her. They did not allow too many things, but I suppose that is the case with all future kings. Neither his parents nor his grandparents had many freedoms ..”

 

Before the astonished look of Astre, he forces himself to clarify.

 

“Ah, yes ... I had the chance to meet them all. The Shinigamis of my rank have a duty to work with the crown. Although, only a few members of the royal family know our true nature ..”

 

“So, you were also at her service ..”

 

A snap with his tongue slows his hasty conclusions.

 

“I would not see it that way. Let's say we are agents or advisors. We work together with the leaders of nations to follow a larger plan. It's a tedious job to tell the truth. Too many protocol meetings ...” The glass is again swinging between his fine fingers and the alcohol resumes its way through its surface. “In short, I worked with your queen until my retirement ..”

 

The young man does not overlook the nickname "your queen." But he does not stop at that. He has begun to spin some loose ends and needs to get his answers.

 

“The murder of my family. The massacre of the Phantomhives. That was the reason for your desertion ..”

 

The Shinigami's face contracts in an expression of pain. Again, memories threaten to cloud his good judgment. _No, you must order! He needs to know..._

 

“When Victoria grew up it was necessary to choose a candidate who could prolong the legacy of the crown. As you well know, in real marriages, affection between the parties is not a condition. In my opinion they should be called strategic contracts and not real marriages .. However, this time it was different. Prince Albert was a name pronounced with affection and longing. Then I knew that they would integrate the minimum percentage of real couples that included love between the parties …”

 

Astre nods silently. He was not oblivious to all that. Victoria's love for Prince Albert had been well known and admired throughout the kingdom.

 

“I was happy for her. She was a good girl, she deserved it. Later I knew that love would be my ruin.”

 

He remembered with painful clarity the day when, without knowing it, his world had turned upside down. Everything had started with a cough, a cold, nothing serious. The happy couple had not given much importance to the matter following their busy routine of obligations. He, on the other hand, knew what was coming so he had tried to keep his reservations about it. His duty as a high-ranking Shinigami was based on advice, not interfering.

 

Until one day she had realized the truth. Albert would no longer recover, so in her desperation she had turned to him with the obvious request.

 

"Please save him"

 

Her words still echoed in his mind. She was already an adult woman when she had presented herself in front of him and had uttered that phrase as a child's plea. The head of the most powerful nation in the world, was on her knees begging pity. His interior had been moved by such display of devotion.

 

“She wanted me to save him. She believed that a Shinigami had the power to keep her with her beloved prince. She certainly gave me a lot of credit ..”

 

He would have liked to have been able to saved the life of her beloved. However, giving life was not in his hands ..

 

_Of course you can not help me. Because there is nothing alive in you. Because there never has been. Because there never will be_. That phrase had been the only reproach addressed to him. But he had not given it much importance. Impotence in the face of death could make people cruel.

 

“The day of the funeral she was very silent. Due to protocol issues she was not allowed to mourn in public, but neither did she do it privately. The shock of loss can sweep away all emotions. However, it was not the expression of someone who had lost a loved one as I thought at first. Oh no, it was the expression of someone looking for someone to blame ...”

 

Undertaker drains the rest of the drink. Its content is lost between his lips. His bearing returns to have a certain taciturn air.

 

“She knew about my attachment to the Phantonmhives. She was aware of my friendship with Vincent, of my love for his young children. It was a serious mistake not to have seen what she planned in time.”

 

Astre suddenly stands up. Victoria. Her Majesty. His queen...Always her. She had been his great enemy. She had been behind the tragedy of his family. He, who had tried to keep the family's work with the crown, who had tried to alleviate her fears and concerns with his missions ...

 

“Damn!” Rarely did his aristocratic vocabulary make that kind of words, but on that occasion he could not find another word to describe it. “That woman, always that woman ... “ his steps take him on a frantic walk through the office. Now that he knows the truth he can not stand still, so much time lost ..

 

"You!" He turns to the Shinigami who looks at him peacefully in his chair. "Why did not you say it?" Why did not you explain all this to me when leaving Campania? Why? why?” The questions were like a cloud of wasps in his mind.

 

“Were you willing to listen?”

 

The boy stops abruptly his steps. He looks at him perplexed.

 

"No, you were not." Undertaker replies to himself. "When we left that boat I knew that my words would have no effect on you. You felt betrayed. You believed me your enemy. Believe me, I know how that feels, you needed time ..”

 

Astre remembered his first days with him. His silences. His hurt expresion when he had accused him of being worse than the owner of that circus that had kidnapped them. With a twinge of guilt, he notices the wound that his words would have caused him ..

 

_It is true. I was not willing to listen. Too many betrayals had that effect .._

 

“That's why I decided that you would reach your own conclusions ..”

 

The silence returns to settle between the two as a presence. Now that everything was said, there were no truths to discover, Astre had difficulty defining how to feel ..

 

“Their kingdom.”

 

Undertaker focuses on him. He seems baffled by the sudden change of subject.

 

“The answer to your question "What is the most important thing for a monarch?" It will always be their kingdom ... And that is why you plan to destroy it, just as she destroyed what was most important to you.”

 

Undertaker smiles at him, and this time, it is the most sincere smile he has seen him sketch in a long time. The Shinigami lifts the empty cup in front of him, in an illusionary toast.

 

In an instant Astre is certain that there are forces so powerful that humans have no comparison with them. He had always known, with Sebastian and his incursions it was impossible not to account for that. However, when that day sees the Shinigami, he can not help feeling infinitely small.

 

Undertaker was Death. He was not a Shinigami anymore, he was someone older, stronger, more than any demon, maybe more than the angels of God.

 

While he sees him, he can not repress the weight of his guilt. His mistakes had led him again and again in wrong ways. He, who had always believed himself the king in that imaginary chessboard, who had moved influences, who had directed the lives of people as his tools ... was nothing more than someone else's pawn.

 

Astre stands in front of Undertaker and kneels on the ground. The Shinigami watches him pleased, recharged on the sofa. It is a gesture that he has seen Sebastian do so many times. For the devil, that gesture was just an act, a parody of loyalty that would last as long as he could keep it entertained. On the other hand, for him, that day prostrating himself in front of the gravedigger indicated something else ..

 

Finally, he has reached the conclusion that this game, still mysterious for him, has two participants who have been the real puppeteers behind the scenes.

 

A clearly defined king and queen ...

 

And he has already chosen who to follow.

 

 

End

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, at last I was able to post the end. A thousand pardons for the delay in updating but as we usually say, "life got in the way." A thousand thanks to all those who followed this fic, who took the trouble to comment and add it to favorites. They are in my little heart! I hope you enjoyed it. Until next time!


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